


A Bit of Rough

by ilokheimsins



Category: Kingsman: The Secret Service (2015)
Genre: But temporarily in the sense of a mission, F/F, F/M, M/M, Roxy and Eggsy are my brOTP, Threesome - M/M/M, eggsy/OMC & eggsy/OFC, fix-it fic in the sense this is way after v-day, honeypot/rentboy missions, roxy/OMC & roxy/OFC
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-17
Updated: 2016-05-23
Packaged: 2018-03-31 01:42:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 20,345
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3959686
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ilokheimsins/pseuds/ilokheimsins
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Everything starts because Roxy remembers what Eggsy said before that party.</p>
<p>Or.</p>
<p>Harry thinks he isn't good enough for Eggsy but can't really take watching Eggsy sleep with other people, Eggsy thinks Harry is out of his league and sleeps with people he thinks are in his league instead, Roxy wonders how she got stuck with all these boneheads, and Merlin thinks the title of overlord is fitting.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Wedding Crashers

**Author's Note:**

> Guys, I don't think you understand how much I love the honeypot/rentboy Eggsy trope. You don't understand.

“Posh girls love a bit of rough,” Eggsy says with a smirk.

***

“Posh blokes love a bit of rough,” Roxy says to Merlin, “That’s why I think Eggsy should take this mission.”

The man in question is off getting fitted for another suit under the careful eye of Harry after the fiasco with the suit in canary yellow with terribly blue Oxfords.  Roxy isn’t sorry at all to subject Eggsy to what will no doubt be hours of Harry explaining the differences between patterns and colors and waxing poetical about what is proper for which event.  She doesn’t feel a single whit of remorse, especially not after Eggsy subjected her retinas to that radiation colored suit.

“And that’s why you think we should send Eggsy on this mission,” Merlin peers at her over his glasses, “He doesn’t even have the training for this.”

“He doesn’t have to sleep with him,” Roxy shrugs, “He can do what I do.  Make a show of it, shoot him with a dart, and then go off.”

“Roxy, this is a little bit different from you running some scratches down a man’s back,” Merlin says, “I don’t think Eggsy has the tact for that.”

Roxy shrugs again, “Then he can sleep with the posh bloke.  Besides, the posh bloke will be too busy staring at Eggsy’s mouth.  It’s too pink.

Merlin’s eyebrows move towards his hairline in surprise and he stops tapping away at his clipboard long enough to regard Roxy with an interested nod.

 “You remember Charlie?” Roxy asks, “Charlie spent far too much time talking about Eggsy’s mouth when he thought Eggsy wasn’t listening.  Something about it being ‘too damn pink’ and ‘fucking Christ he needs to shut his mouth before someone shoves something in it’.”

“Charlie,” Merlin says incredulously, “Chester King’s candidate for Lancelot, Charlie.”

Roxy nods.

“The one and the same, Merlin.”

“Fine, fine, I’ll send Galahad on the mission to seduce the posh bloke,” Merlin swipes away at his clipboard.

“So that means you’ll be seducing his sister instead of Eggsy.”

Merlin pulls up the profile of her target, Lady Ann-Marie Smitherson, and Roxy carefully memorizes her features.  There’s nothing in the profile that her dossier doesn’t have, but Roxy finds it’s always good practice to read over old information to make sure everything she remembers is correct.

“She looks lovely enough, I’m sure we’ll get on brilliantly,” Roxy says.

“And,” Merlin looks pained as the next words leave his mouth, “This may actually be the occasion for Eggsy to wear that god awful yellow suit.”

Roxy groans and prays that maybe she can get to it and burn it before Eggsy comes in for his briefing.

***

She fails to get to it, fails by more than an hour in fact because when she sneaks into his room to steal it, he’s already affixing the cuff links to his sleeves.  And her punishment is to watch Eggsy saunter around in it like a giant neon yellow highlighter.  Aside from the fact that the suit is bespoke and clings to him perfectly, Roxy feels like her retinas are slowly burning out from looking at him.  She touches a finger to her glasses (new ones, frameless and nearly invisible, to suit her face) to adjust them and Merlin comes crackling through the earpiece.

“Dear god, I am so sorry I ever suggested he wear that damn thing,” Merlin groans.

“I think he looks rather lovely in it,” Harry’s voice comes through straight after.

“He looks like a Big Bird dildo,” Roxy hisses through a smile.

Merlin howls with laughter through the comm and Harry chokes on his reply.  Her own target hasn’t appeared yet, but she can see Eggsy’s (Sir Matthieu Smitherson) eyeing up Eggsy, specifically his arse, with a mixture of disgust and lust from across the room.

“Eggsy, Matthieu’s at your six,” Roxy mutters and then accepts a glass of champagne from a nearby waiter.

She’s dressed in something much more suited to the venue, a black jumpsuit with a plunging neckline and backline that hugs her tightly and contains all the regular trappings of a normal bespoke suit.  David was less than pleased when informed that he had less than forty eight hours to try and fit all the tech into something with half the fabric.

Roxy continues to case the room but she keeps darting glances at Eggsy, who’s playing up his normal chav accent and keeps finding excuses to lounge against the little cocktail tables in a way that make his trousers pull sinfully tight across his arse.  On her next glance to Matthieu, Roxy sees the way his eyes zero in on Eggsy’s arse as the fabric pulls tight and he makes his excuses to those he’s standing with.

She’s just distracted enough watching Matthieu stalk towards Eggsy that she nearly jumps when Eggsy’s voice pops up in her comm.

“Your bird’s coming down the stairs now, she is,” Eggsy manages to get the whole sentence out before Matthieu trips and sends the whole of his drink splashing all over Eggsy’s back.

The whole room stops to watch the spread of dark purple over electric yellow and Eggsy straightens slowly.

“Terribly sorry,” Matthieu says.  His accent is as posh as the rest of him.  Eggsy gives him a slow once over and blushes, his cheeks pinking attractively.

“Nah, bruv,” Eggsy says, “’s fine.  I can always get anovver one done up, yeah?”

He cracks a smile that is at once shy and coy.  Roxy can practically see Matthieu fall for the smile like a ton of bricks before her own target passes in front of her.  She affects a startled gasp and places a hand on Ann-Marie’s arm.

“Ann?  Is that you?  I almost didn’t recognize you,” Roxy praises, “You look absolutely gorgeous.”

Ann-Marie preens and hooks her arm in Roxy’s, “I’m afraid to say I don’t remember you, though I can’t imagine how I could ever possibly forget someone as dashing and beautiful.”

And then they’re off and that’s really the last of Eggsy that Roxy sees that night.

***

It is most definitely not the last time Roxy sees Eggsy on that mission.

The next time she sees him is two days later, after the two of them have been invited to stay at the Smitherson estate until Matthieu and Ann’s older sister, Lily, gets married on Saturday.  She places a good morning kiss on Ann’s brow and mutters something about needing coffee before the birds start chirping or so help her god.  That gets an amused snort out of Ann and Roxy slips her glasses on before she pads down to the kitchen, where she opens the door and then immediately tries to close it, nearly hitting herself in the face in the process.

Eggsy is bent over the breakfast bar, his glasses askew, hair tousled, and with his mouth open, moaning like a slag as Matthieu Smitherson bites at his shoulder and drives into him with a sharp snap of his hips.

“Fuck yeah, right there, bruv,” Eggsy licks his lips (which are so very pink and swollen and Roxy resolves to box that up to never think about again) and reaches back to tilt Matthieu’s face down for a kiss.

His back bows as he tosses his head back, crying out in pleasure.  Matthieu buries his face into Eggsy’s neck and strokes a hand down the taut plane of Eggsy’s belly while he groans and drags a hand through Mattheiu’s hair.

“Roxy, close your mouth,” Merlin says.

Roxy snaps her jaw shut and tries again to back out of the kitchen before the boys see her, but this time she knocks something over and sends a whole rack of pots clanging to the floor.

“I see you have all of your usual grace,” Merlin’s voice is drier than the desert and Roxy suppresses her urge to tell him to shut up in favor of smiling embarrassedly at the boys.

“Morning, Gary, Matthieu,” She nods at both of them.

And then, just to be cheeky, she says, “Looks like you’ve got your morning exercise done with.”

Eggsy blushes up a storm and then says, “We ain’t finished yet.  So if it won’t put ye out too much, be a love and close thuh door behind ye.”

He winks and then wriggles backwards, which gets a strangled sound out of Matthieu.  Roxy abandons all sense of decorum to sprint to the fridge and makes up the fastest plate of bread, cheese, cold cuts and fruit that she can before fleeing the kitchen.  She does make sure to close the door on her way out and warns Linda, the cook, that Eggsy and Matthieu are engaging in some unsanitary recreational activities in her kitchen.

It’s clear that breakfast for the rest of the house is going to be delayed.  But it’s alright; she and Ann can always have breakfast in bed.

***

Blessedly enough, she doesn’t see Eggsy again for a whole twenty four hours.  She uses it to accompany Ann shopping and then horse riding.  When Ann gets called away for some wedding preparations, Roxy smiles sweetly and waves her off.  Once she’s absolutely sure that Ann is gone, Roxy lays into carefully ransacking her room.

“Eggsy,” She hisses into her comm after she’s overturned the entire area.

“Galahad is a bit…preoccupied,” Merlin says.

“What do you mean?  There’s no one else here,” Roxy asks as she sweeps over to a music box that she somehow missed her first time around the room.

Her response is a click and then Eggsy’s swearing and moaning fills the line.  She’s just about to open her mouth to ask Merlin to shut the fucking line when the man does and comes back on.

“Does that answer your question?”

“How much sex can they have?” Roxy snaps as she paws through the music box.  It’s a ridiculously large affair, carved from oak and ancient.  One of the legs wobbles a little when Roxy pushes at it too hard and she moves forward more carefully.

“Actually,” Merlin sounds rather amused, “As of now, they’ve had thirteen different rounds since the first night.  Percival has a bet on that doubling before the wedding.  Bors is betting on thirty nine.  Elyan and Kay are going for twenty.  Want to place a bet?”

“There will be no bets about how much sex agents have,” Harry’s voice comes snaking through the comm, sounding very angry.

“Put me down with Percy,” Roxy says, “Thirty quid.”

“Lancelot!”

“Oh, come on, Harry,” Merlin says, “It’s just a bit of harmless fun.”

Harry subsides into unamused grumbles and Roxy flops onto Ann’s giant bed.

“Nothing?”

“Nothing,” Roxy affirms.

“The brother must have it then,” Merlin says and Roxy can hear the faint tapping of his fingers against the tabletop.

Roxy rolls her eyes, “Good luck getting Eggsy away from his cock long enough to find it.”

“Language, Lancelot,” Merlin admonishes, but it’s fond and Roxy finds herself smiling in response.

***

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Roxy slaps a hand over her eyes, “I sit on that couch.”

“As do I,” Ann says from behind her.  She sounds more amused than anything.

“And it’s not too bad,” Ann mentions, “At least they’re both pretty.”

“That’s your brother,” Roxy says.

“Specifically, that is my brother’s arse,” Ann observes, “And quite a bit of it seems to be shielded from view by Gary’s feet.”

The sound of something shattering, followed by Merlin swearing, and then Harry apologizing for spilling hot tea all over Merlin filters through her comm.

“He does have nice feet,” Ann comments approvingly.

“You’s fucking right I got nice feet,” Eggsy pants, “Got a lot of ovver nice parts too, now don’ I?”

Eggsy flips them off with a wicked grin that dissolves into a moan as Matthieu changes his angle and Roxy decides that’s definitely more than she ever wants to see or hear ever again.  She grabs Ann’s hand and absolutely does not run from the room.

***

“Oh good, you’re clothed this time,” Roxy says.

“Oi, I ain’t naked all the time,” Eggsy bumps his shoulder against hers as he comes up to where she’s leaning against the stair rail.

“No, only when you’re getting fucked on absolutely every single surface in this house,” Roxy quips, “Do you know how unsanitary it is to fuck in a kitchen?”

“I’ve been assured,” Here Eggsy affects a posh accent, “That everything in the house has been sterilized to within an inch of its life.”

He grins goofily and then jumps up to settle himself onto the stair rail.

“Eggsy, get down.  We’re going to walk like civilized people,” She hisses.

“Awwww, Rox.  C’mon, ‘ave some fun,” He winks and then he’s off, laughing softly as he slides down the coiling bannister.

“You might as well,” Merlin says, “There’s really no harm in it.”

Roxy sighs and seats herself on the golden rail.  When she reaches the bottom, Eggsy cajoles her into admitting that perhaps sliding down a bannister isn’t the end of the world.

“Anyways, I know you lot’re gonna be askin’ me ‘bout the drive,” Eggsy says, “I checked his room already.  Ain’t there.”

“Eggsy.”

“Yeah, yeah, bruv, I know, wedding’s in a day so get a shove on.”

Merlin is silent for a long moment and both Roxy and Eggsy know it’s because he’s trying to talk himself out of telling Eggsy not to call him bruv.  He wins eventually because his voice comes over the line again, dry and unimpressed, to tell them to fucking get on with it.

***

“If you fuck him at this wedding, so help me Eggsy, I will convince Merlin you need to do all your paperwork by hand,” Roxy hisses while they’re getting dressed.

Eggsy’s wearing a rather nice suit this time, metallic navy that shimmers ever so slightly when the light hits it right.  The godawful yellow one seems to have disappeared and Eggsy is still mourning its loss.

“I’m not going to fuck him at the wedding,” Eggsy says, “Not that much of a crass arse.”

“Good,” Roxy begins.

“Gonna fuck him after it though,” Eggsy grins and Roxy groans.

“Fine, you go play with Matthieu and I’ll get the information,” She resolutely keeps all the other less than savory things she wants to say locked up in her throat.

“Nah, Rox, I’ll get it,” Eggsy adjusts his tie with laser focus, “Matt keeps the thumb drive on ‘im mostly.  Unless he ain’t wearin’ clothes.  And he weren’t really wearin’ clothes when I was around before, y’know?”

“I wish I didn’t,” Roxy snaps back.

“Galahad, retrieve the damn drive.”

Merlin doesn’t sound any more impatient or frustrated than usual, but Harry certain sounds a bit tight when he starts speaking.

“I’m afraid your post wedding plans will have to be cancelled, Egg—Galahad, the extraction team will be on site within five minutes of the finishing of the vows.”

There’s some static that sounds like scuffling before Merlin comes back on.

“Lancelot, make sure none of the guests get hurt.  Some intel, which I very much hope is wrong, is insinuating that there’s going to be a raid for that drive.”

“Yes, Merlin.”  She nods in the mirror and then smacks Eggsy’s arm.

“Come on, you bloody peacock.  Stop preening in the mirror.”

“I look fucking gorgeous, now don’t I.  I’m gonna preen while I can, yeah?  This suit is fucking sick,” Eggsy twists around to look at the back of it in the mirror, “Gonna take it home with me.”

“Galahad, the suit is all yours if you do a little spin,” Merlin says.

Roxy watches Eggsy spin in the shifting suit and says, “It looks tighter than usual.”

Harry stutters, the sound quickly overridden by Merlin cackling.

“Of course it is,” He says when he’s stopped laughing, “Eggsy’s supposed to be an improper sort of lad.  And an improper sort of lad would be wearing a suit that’s a touch too tight.”

“My arse look aces in this,” Eggsy crows.

“Yes, yes,” Harry comes back online, sounding rather like he’s been run through a blender, “Now do get a move on.  The ceremony’s supposed to start soon.”

“Cheers then,” Eggsy mock salutes and saunters out of the room.  Roxy follows him out, stopping once to check that her holster is still in place.

Matthieu slides a possessive hand around Eggsy’s waist and it drifts lower almost immediately to brush the curve of his arse.  Roxy rolls her eyes at the sight and shuffles past them to find Ann, who’s looking resplendent in a sunny pastel yellow (take note Eggsy, this is an appropriate yellow, not that godawful highlighter color).  Ann beams when she sees her and Roxy offers her arm, grinning when Ann bats her lashes and pretends to swoon.

“Why, I never had a gentlelady so fine,” She affects an American southern drawl and Roxy giggles.

“And I have never had a companion so divine,” Roxy returns and they saunter out together, leaving Eggsy to fend off Matthieu’s wandering hands by himself.

Ann and Matthieu are part of the wedding party and depart from them soon after they show Roxy and Eggsy to their seats.  Roxy settles in and crosses her legs at the ankles, feeling the reassuring weight of her knives brush together.  Eggsy spends a few minutes being enthusiastically kitten-kissed by Matthieu, to which he blushes and pretends to be shy.  But finally, Eggsy runs an unsure hand over Matthieu’s flank to hook it into his pocket and mumbles something about not being so great with public displays.

That garners a laugh from Matthieu and he places one last kiss on Eggsy’s nose before turning to join the line of groomsmen waiting at the altar.  Eggsy plops himself down into the seat next to Roxy and shuffles himself until their shoulders are touching.

“What kind of bloke brings a fucking drive to a wedding?” Eggsy mutters.

“I’ve never been so grateful for your pickpocketing skills,” Roxy replies, and it’s really only half sarcasm.  Eggsy flips her off and then flashes the drive for the benefit of her and whoever’s monitoring them before tucking it into his shoe.

The wedding itself is a rather normal affair.  The orchestra plays the traditional song and quite a few people start crying and whispering about how beautiful the bride is.  Roxy, for one, isn’t the biggest fan of weddings, if only because they tend to be very cut and dry this high in society.  Eggsy, on the other hand, is absolutely spellbound by the proceedings.

“It’s just a wedding,” She whispers to him.

“Well, I ain’t never been to one, now ‘ave I, bruv?” Eggsy whispers back and watches the little girl throwing flowers stop in confusion at the altar, several steps ahead of the bride.  The girl looks into her basket and then makes the monumental decision to upend the rest of the flower petals onto the ground in front of her.  She looks incredibly proud of herself as one of the bridesmaids leads her off to the side.

“Just like my little flower,” Eggsy says proudly.

Roxy rolls her eyes but doesn’t say anything else.  Merlin hasn’t said anything and she hasn’t seen anything, but his earlier warning about a raid is still in the forefront of her mind.  It’s not until the groom is halfway through his vows that anything happens.

A gunshot rings out and a vase explodes near the altar.  The wedding party’s reaction is very predictable and Roxy barely spares it a thought before she’s charging down the aisle, shouting orders that are unthinkingly obeyed.  She can’t see Eggsy, but Merlin, who’s finally back in their ear, assures her that he’s taken off after the would-be assassin.  Roxy reaches the altar and pulls Matthieu down.

“Stay here and don’t move,” She orders.

Turning to Ann, who’s looking at her with a mixture of pride and surprise, she says, “Make sure he doesn’t do anything stupid.”

Ann nods, her jaw in a firm, determined set, and Roxy takes off again.

“Thirty meters at your four,” Merlin says and Roxy fires a shot off without thinking.  A man falls out of a tree and hits the ground.

“Your nine.”

Another shot.

Merlin calls out another direction and Roxy spins to face it.  By the time she’s done clearing the perimeter, she’s gone through two cartridges and both her knives.  She cuts a glance in the direction she remembers Eggsy being in and sees him sitting on a man with several more scattered around him.  He’s poking his cheek, which is pinking up in a way that Roxy knows means a bruise is coming, and wincing.

“Haley?  What’s going on?”

Roxy turns to face Ann, who’s clutching her brother’s arm like a lifeline.

“Get out of there, Lancelot, we’re going to be doing a mass amnesia run as soon as you and Eggsy are out,” Merlin’s voice sounds.

She can hear the familiar whip of a helicopter’s blades and Eggsy calling her name, but she can also see the way Ann’s face goes confused at the call of “Roxy” and the way her face crumples in heartbreak.  Roxy steps forward and cups Ann’s face in her hands to place a kiss on her lips.

“I’m so sorry, Ann,” Roxy whispers, “I’m not the one you’ll be happy with.”

She releases Ann and sprints towards the chopper.   By the time she gets there, Eggsy’s already wedged himself into the far seat and buckled himself in.  As soon as the chopper door closes, Eggsy pats her leg and she lets himself relax into his side.  She knows she shouldn't get attached.

After all, Kingsmen don’t find love on missions.


	2. It Takes Two to Tango

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Merlin is a terrible enabler who hides whiskey in the paper shredder and Harry's too old for this shit.

“Lancelot, Galahad,” Merlin nods at them as they file in through the door.

For the moment, Merlin and Harry are sharing an office space as they try to wade through the enormous amounts of VDay paperwork still swamping the area.  Harry looks up at them from where he’s hunched over his desk, dabbing mournfully at a stack of paper that looks to be the victim of an unfortunate tea spill.

“Got your drive, guv’n’r,” Eggsy says cheekily and tosses the small piece at Merlin, who snags it out of the air without as much as a blink.

“Much appreciated, Galahad.”

“What does it contain, anyway?” Roxy asks.

“Some rather important data we will be using to patch up some of the holes that the previous Arthur left in our finances,” Harry answers.

He gives up the stack of paper as a lost cause and instead carefully notes down the numbers at the top of each form before dumping the whole sodden mess into the bin.

“Good job, the both of you,” Harry gives them a fond smile.

“Nah, bruv, best sex I had in a while, yeah?  Them honeypot missions ain’t so bad,” Eggsy shrugs.

Harry’s smile tightens at that, but Eggsy keeps going.

“And that suit was aces,” He says enthusiastically.

“You sure I can keep it?” Eggsy casts a dubious glance at Merlin.

“It won’t fit anyone else,” Merlin remarks.

“You should both go to medical,” Harry interrupts.

The other three occupants of the room turn to look at him in confusion, though Merlin has the slightest edge of a knowing smirk gracing his mouth.

“Why?  I only got punched in the face once,” Eggsy says, his nose wrinkling in confusion.

“For the sex, he means,” Roxy clarifies, “I think.”

“It’s sex, though, innit?  Why do I gotta go to medical for sex?”

“Quite right, Arthur,” Merlin is full on smirking now and Harry regrets ever becoming friends with the man, “We checked their records thoroughly before allowing this mission.  Both Smitherson siblings have a clean bill of health.”

“You never know,” Harry coughs awkwardly, “Sometimes one’s partner is not a gentleman and—”

“Oh!  You’s sayin’ that maybe Matty-boy was rough, yeah?  And didn’t take care of me all proper and the like,” Eggsy cuts in.

He grins goofily, “Don’ need to worry ‘bout that, Harry.  I like it a li’l rough sometimes.  And Matty-boy’s real good with his ‘ands.”

“I think medical would still be a good idea,” Harry carries on, though his voice is rougher than before, “If only to get into the routine habit of checking everything after a mission.  Immediately, in fact.”

“Yes, Harry,” Eggsy says and mock-salutes before he turns on his heel, Roxy following his lead.

“Ah, Roxy,” Merlin calls out just before they exit.

“Yes, Merlin?”

“Your money,” He hands her a stack of ten quid bills, “Congratulations on winning the bet.  The sum has been divided between you and Percival.”

Harry makes a strangled sound from the corner.

“What’d you bet on, then?” Eggsy peers over her shoulder at the money Roxy’s carefully folding into the pocket of her suit.

“How many times you and Matthieu had sex before the mission was over,” She says calmly.

“Yeah?  Swank, you better be treatin’ me to some food with all tha’ cash you got now,” He says, grinning.

Roxy rolls her eyes, “They have cheap fish and chips at the greasy pub on the corner.  That sound good to you?”

“Rox, light of my heart, if you wasn’t my best friend, I’d marry you in a heartbeat,” Eggsy calls out as he follows her out the door.

The door clicks shut behind them and Merlin gives in to the urge to look at Harry’s face.  The other man is wearing a pinched expression that Merlin would describe as being somewhere between incandescent rage, jealously, and resignation.

“There’s still Jack in the paper shredder,” Merlin remarks.

Harry looks offended at the very notion that he might imbibe such terrible whiskey.

“Binge drinking on the good stuff is expensive,” Merlin shrugs, “And you look like you need a very thorough drunken discussion about feelings.”

“I don’t have any feelings,” Harry says stiffly.

“Ah, yes,” Merlin says, “No feelings about Eggsy at all.  I see.”

Harry is silent for a beat too long.

“The paper shredder, you said?”

***

Three hours later, Merlin and Harry are lying in separate piles of paper, the empty bottle of Jack between them.

“I’m too old,” Harry says for the umpteenth time.

“For chrissakes,” Merlin replies for the umpteenth time, “The lad doesn’t fucking care.”

“Too old and too flabby and too grey,” Harry mourns.

“And I’m telling you that Eggsy really doesn’t care.”

“And I can’t even keep up with him bed,” Harry says sadly.

“Yes, yes,” Merlin snipes, “We’ve established that you’re older than him.  Bravo.  And as for the bed problem, just get him off more.  He’s young, he can do it.”

He’s suddenly reminded of the last four days of trying to tune out Eggsy having loud and enthusiastic sex, multiple times a day.

“I am a thousand percent positive he can do it,” Merlin mumbles, “Lad’s got the stamina of one of those bunny batteries.”

“Bunny batteries?”

“Yeah, the bunny with the drum?”

Harry’s brown furrows as he tries to remember the name and slices a hand up in excitement as he shouts, “Energizer!”

“Exactly,” Merlin nods as if Harry has just said the most profound thing to grace human ears, “Eggsy has the stamina of an energizer bunny.”

“But I’m too old,” Harry repeats.

And Merlin groans in response, he may be too drunk to move, but he is definitely not drunk enough to repeat this conversation again.

***

“Harry?”

Harry groans and squeezes his eyes shut tighter, trying to block the little bit of light filtering through his eyelids.  A headache pounds at his skull and Harry thinks again that he’s too old to be drinking like this.

“Harry.”

There’s that damnable voice that sounds like Eggsy again.

“Harry, you alright?”

Harry cracks his left eye open just enough to survey the outside world.  Eggsy’s face, caught somewhere between worried and trying not to smile, swims blurrily into view.

“”Ow’s your head?” Blurry Eggsy asks.

Harry groans piteously.  It’s not just his head.  It’s also his mouth feeling like something unfortunately small and fuzzy has died in it and his body feeling like he’s subjected it to being run over with a truck repeatedly (something he actually has experience with, and which he can safely says hurts like the fucking devil).

“Oi, Rox, pass me the water,” Blurry Eggsy says and turns away from Harry.

He comes back into view seconds later, a blurry outline of a water bottle in his hands.  Eggsy slips a hand under Harry’s head and props it up just enough so that Harry can drink from the bottle without spilling.

“Let me die in peace,” Merlin moans hideously from where Harry assumes Roxy is tending to him.

“You should really know better than to drink so much at your age,” Roxy says, not an ounce of sympathy in her tone.

“I would take offense to that implication if I didn’t feel like death would feel better right now,” Merlin manages to mumble.

“Why the ‘ell did you two think it was a good idea to drink a whole bottle of Jack?”

Eggsy has stopped being so blurry and Harry’s mouth has regressed from feeling like something has died in it to just feeling cottony and dry.  Harry manages to sit up, cradling his head delicately in his hands when even that short movement causes his head to feel like it’s splitting in half.

“Emotional matters,” Harry grits out when his head stops feeling quite so much like it’s about to crack open.

Silence falls in the room and Harry chances the slightest glance upward to see Eggsy sucking his top lip into his mouth with amusement and not a faint amount of concern in his eyes.

“Emotional matters,” He repeats, as if he didn’t hear Harry perfectly well the first time.

“Emotional matters,” Merlin confirms from where he’s trying to die peacefully on his pile of papers.

“Tha’s it?  No clarification or nothin’?”

“Nothing,” Harry corrects, because it’s just about the only thing his brain can process without erupting into another round of staccato pounding.

“Nofin’,” Eggsy says, playing up his accent just to be contrary.

“Anyways,” Roxy butts in loudly, “We’re here for our mission briefs.”

“Over there,” Merlin says weakly.

There’s a bit of shuffling which Harry assumes to be Roxy helping Merlin into a sitting (or more correctly, slumping) position before she and Eggsy wade through the precarious stacks of paperwork to dig through the crap layered on Merlin’s desk.  There’s a bit of hushed conversation between the two of them, mostly consisting of “Eggsy put that down” and “What do you think they were talkin’ ‘bout?”.

Harry slowly sips at the water bottle Eggsy so kindly left at his side, letting their soft chatter wash over him.

“Got ‘em,” Eggsy announces finally.  His statement is punctured by a sliding shuffle of paper that Harry knows heralds a paper spill that he and Merlin will probably sob a bit over later because it means more work and more mess for them.  From the little groaning noise that Merlin makes, he’s thinking the same thing as Harry.

Harry’s almost positive that Roxy and Eggsy are taking far too much joy in seeing Merlin and Harry brought to their current state.  Lord knows that he and Merlin have certainly told Eggsy off about drinking too much.  Roxy usually escapes the worst of these lectures by some preternatural ability to avoid hangovers.  Eggsy is still trying to wheedle her into giving him some of her genetics.

“Then ye know that Lancelot’s headed to break a drug ring in Siberia and tha’ Galahad’s off to Managua to seduce a socialite into giving him information on a possible cartel tha’s popping up and also to off her if necessary.”

Merlin pauses and groans. Harry looks up just in time to see Roxy pass the other man a bottle of water that he downs half of before continuing.

“Fall out.”

“Yes, Merlin,” They say in unison.  The thuds of their shoes, a slightly lighter thud for Roxy and a heavier click that denotes Eggsy, track across the floor and Eggsy calls out a “Bye, Harry” that’s echoed with a “Feel better, you two” from Roxy and then blessedly, the door shuts.

“I’m too old for this,” Harry bemoans.

“Harry?”

“What?”

“If I hear ye say you’re too old one more time I will fuckin’ shove my shoe up your mouth.”

***

It takes a day, more greasy food than Harry will ever willingly admit to, and three cups of tea for him to start feeling normal again.  The pounding has receded to a dull throbbing that only really makes itself known when he stands or sits too quickly.  It took him and Merlin nearly an hour the previous morning to sort out the paper avalanche, but it’s back to its original precarious tower and Harry is methodically working his way through it at present.

“How’s ‘is?”

Harry looks up from his latest form at the sound of Eggsy’s voice.  One of the nine flat screens Merlin has installed on the office wall shows Eggsy stretching in a shirt that clings to every stretch of his torso and a woman that is at least Harry and Merlin’s age eyeing him up appreciatively.

“Arms dealer socialite,” Merlin says, “At least that’s what the intelligence says.”

“Absolutely delightful,” The woman says, smirking predatorily.

“Yeah?” Eggsy asks, “What about the trousers?  I gotta wear trousers for this thing, yeah?  Only ones I got have holes in ‘em.”

The woman snaps her fingers and says something in rapid-fire Spanish to an attendant that Harry can’t see in the mirror that Eggsy is looking at.

“These.”

The woman hands a set of midnight colored jeans with silver stitching on all the seams over to Eggsy.  Eggsy takes them and then shifts a little bit, his cheeks pinking up.  And, goddammit, Harry hates whoever taught Eggsy how to affect that innocent but bold look that he’s currently sporting.  But, he considers, it was probably Eggsy who figured it out himself.  Eggsy is also chewing on his lower lip and he runs his tongue over it before speaking, which is when Harry crunches the paper in his hands into a crinkled wad.

“C’n ye go outside for a sec?  I ain’t got no pants on."

The woman looks amused but she obliges, sweeping the curtain shut behind her.  Eggsy removes his glasses and places them behind him, the camera trained on his backside.  Harry watches, unable to tear his eyes away from the screen, as Eggsy strips off his trousers and there was absolutely no lie in his statement about pants.  It takes Eggsy an incredible amount of wriggling to pour himself into the jeans, during which Harry is treated to the view of Eggsy’s well-formed arse bouncing along with his attempts to jump and pull the jeans up at the same time.  It’s an agonizingly slow process and Eggsy nearly falls over twice, spreading his legs and slamming a hand against the wall to stop his face from meeting with the floor.  Harry nearly chokes on his tea at the sight both times and surreptitiously crosses his legs under his desk.

“Oh my word,” Merlin says as he looks up from his paperwork.

“That’s quite a show,” Merlin says.  Harry can hear the edge of teasing in his voice but Eggsy is on the floor of the dressing room with his hips shunted towards the sky to try and yank the jeans up the last inch or so of his hips.  He ignores Merlin in favor of watching the sliver of skin between Eggsy’s shirt and jeans disappear as he finally manages to get the trousers up all the way.

Eggsy zips them up and there’s a bit of whirling as he picks up the glasses and settles them on his face.  He examines himself in the mirror and gives an approving smirk.  And all Harry can think about is how that silver stitching is like a shining arrow pointing straight at Eggsy’s crotch.

“You are decent, yes?” The woman calls from the other side.

“Yeah, these jeans is aces,” Eggsy says and turns to pull the curtain back.

The woman eyes him up and down and reaches a hand forward to tug the edge of Eggsy’s shirt, ostensibly to smooth out a wrinkle she sees.  But Harry doesn’t understand how a shirt that tight could possibly have any wrinkles, or why she sees fit to smooth a hand over the crease of Eggsy’s hip.

“Perfecto,” She says, “Tu serás lo más bello que hay.”

Harry grits his teeth and clamps down on his urge to reach through the screen and shake the woman while telling her that Eggsy is not a thing.  He is a person, albeit a very beautiful one.

Merlin whistles when Harry snaps the pencil between his fingers.

“Christ, Harry, you’ve got it bad,” He says.

“As my best friend, please do me a favor and shut up.”

Merlin doesn’t say anything more, but he does hum that damned children’s ditty about kissing in trees.

***

It’s not the first time Harry has regretted sharing an office with Merlin.  It is, however, the first time he has regretted it this much.

On one of the screens, Eggsy is currently enthusiastically eating out the mark (a Ms. Thalia Garcia as Harry found out earlier) and sliding a hand up his own cock.  The only saving grace in the situation is that Ms. Garcia does not go into pitches that only a dog should be able to hear.

No, instead, she is patient and rewards Eggsy with pleased hums and sighs and gives him firm instructions that Harry can see him obey.  It’s terrible and wonderful all at once because Harry can see how Eggsy might be the same with Harry’s cock in his mouth, lips stretched and eyes watching Harry for instructions and praise.

Eggsy knocks his glasses off the nightstand in his clumsy enthusiasm to crawl up her body and kiss her neck and then all Merlin and Harry have is a view of some very soft looking carpeting.

“You should replace your pencils with something more durable,” Merlin’s voice breaks through Harry’s dazed fantasy and Harry looks down to see that he’s snapped another pencil between his fingers.

He sweeps the broken pencil into the bin and groans.

“Tell me when it’s over?” Harry closes his eyes and nods at the screen.

A gunshot goes off and Eggy’s voice echoes in the room.

“Fuckin’ ‘ell, that is, couldn’t you ‘ave le’ me ge’ off firs’?”

Harry’s eyes snap open to see the screen tumble as Eggsy fumbles the glasses on.  Ms. Garcia is lounging back on the pillows, all feline poise, as a large man in black points his gun in Eggsy’s direction.  She taps a finger against her chin as she considers the notion.

“Mmm, no, I think not,” She eventually says, “I think your pretty mouth has been working very hard to tell me some pretty lies.  And I do not like being lied to.”

She gestures to the man and another shot rings out, Eggsy dodging sharply to the right to avoid it.  He flies over the bed as the man lines up again and nearly trips over Thalia’s legs.  Eggsy tackles the man, sending the next shot wild.  He gets punched in the face again before he finally manages to clock the guard hard enough to knock him out.

Eggsy clambers off to take a quick stock of himself to make sure everything is alright still and Harry is treated to the sight of Eggsy’s cock, hard and flushed and sheened with spit and precome.

“You know someone’s young when they can maintain an erection during a fight,” Merlin says after opening the feed from their end.

“Shu’ up, yeah?  I’s the fuckin’ adrenaline,” Eggsy spits out before he grabs the gun off the floor and whirls around to face the mark.

“Aw hell, you go’ one too?”

Harry can imagine Eggsy pouting when he notices the mark’s gun, a sleek little number perfect for being hidden under pillows, trained on him.

“Eggsy, shoot her and get out,” Merlin orders, his fingers flying over the keyboard on his desk, “Security’s on their way and you need to be gone when they get there.”

“Tryin’, Merlin,” Eggsy huffs out as he dodges another shot from the mark.

He spins around and fires without bothering to line up.  The bullet hits the mark’s neck and Eggsy puts another bullet through her head just for good measure.  The silence that follows is too large for the room after the previous events and Eggsy’s panting is clear through the comm.

“I can’ fuckin’ put them jeans back on b’fore security ge’s here,” Eggsy complains as he rummages around the room for something to wear.

“Not with that erection,” Merlin cackles.  Not for the first time, Harry wonders how he ever let Merlin seduce him into being friends.

“Raspberry truffles and an 1860s decanter of wine,” Merlin answers without pause.

Harry looks over at him in surprise.

Merlin shrugs, “You tend to voice your thoughts out loud when you’re tired.”

“Merlin, how far’s the extraction?”

“About two minutes from your current position,” Merlin replies.

There’s a beat where nothing happens on screen before Eggsy’s whipping the duvet out from under the mark and draping it onto himself.

“The Romans di’ shit in togas, so can you,” Eggsy says before he charges at the window with one blanked covered forearm in front of his face.

“I feel like I should have expected that,” Merlin says eventually, once they’ve both somewhat recovered from the shock of Eggsy flinging himself out a fourteenth story window.

“Merlin, my arse is cold,” Eggsy shouts, fighting to be heard over the wind whipping around him.  He’s clinging to the top of the hotel’s gaudy lit sign and, to top it all off, it’s raining heavily.  Water streaks down the glasses and there’s a distinct vibration to them that Harry’s come to attribute to shivering.

“Hold on,” Merlin says, tapping furiously at his clipboard, “Extraction should be there in thirty seconds.”

“Merlin, they’re fuckin’ shootin’ a’ me,” Eggsy howls.  The screen wobbles a bit to the left and a black streak whizzes by, clipping the edge of the sign.

“I’m aware, Eggsy,” Merlin says through gritted teeth, “Ten seconds.”

“C’n I do a trust fall?  Like let go and hope they catch me on ‘e way down?”

“Eggsy, let go now!”

The camera starts plummeting, the letters spelling out the hotel’s name streaking by as Eggsy falls.  There’s a jarring stop and then the glasses keep going before crashing into the concrete.  The feed flickers for a second and then blacks out.

“Water and heavy impact at the same time need to be accounted for,” Merlin mumbles, scribbling the note down on a post-it.

“What about Eggsy?” Harry asks, “Where’s Eggsy?” He's so close to shaking Merlin by the collar when the radio between their desk crackles to life.

“This is extraction team three reporting in.”

“Report status,” Merlin says.

“Galahad has been retrieved.  We’re currently trying to find him a pair of pants.  It’s taking longer than expected.” The voice says.

“His arse ain’t fucking proportional to the rest of him, okay?” A second voice pipes up, “Fucking bubbly arses make problems for everyone.”

Harry chokes on his sip of tea and carefully sets the cup down when he’s finished spluttering tea all over his new form.  He’s frowning, a crease forming between his brows, and he’s just about to comment on the improperness of commenting on another’s features when Merlin waves him quiet.  Merlin looks like Christmas, his birthday, and a unicorn have arrived all at once.

“My arse ain’t fuckin’ bubbly,” Eggsy says.  The chattering of his teeth mitigates the indignant tone he’s trying to go for and someone else snorts.

“Yeah, your arse ain’t bubbly and I ain’t got white hair at the age of thirty,” Voice two says sarcastically.

“Ethan, shut the fuck up and find some pants for Galahad.  If he dies of pneumonia because you couldn’t find a pair of goddamn pants, Arthur’s gonna have our heads on pikes,” The first voice orders.

“Yeah, yeah, Jimmy, I got it, finding pants is what I’ve been reduced to,” Ethan grumbles.

“You go’ a toilet or sommat in here?  I didn’ ge' off in there and my dick feels like it’s ‘bout ta fall off,” Eggsy cuts in.

Merlin’s smirk grows wider and, somehow, Harry knows that he’s recording this for future blackmail material.  Not that Harry really thinks Eggsy will care, not if the way the he’s asking to have a wank in the back of a chopper is anything to go by.

“In the back, you wipe down whatever you come on,” Voice one, now identified as Jimmy, says.

“Aces.  Ta, boys, hope when I come out you gonna have some pants that fit my bubbly arse,” Eggsy says cheerfully.

A door slams and locks and the feed goes nearly silent.  There’s still the undertone of Ethan shuffling through a pile of pants and Jimmy grumbling about refolding the damn pants, but for the most part, it’s quiet.

And then they all learn how thin the door between the bathroom and the rest of the chopper is.

“Fucking hell,” Jimmy says, “I’m kinda worried about him. Is he okay in there?”

“He’s a babbler,” Ethan replies, “My girl’s one too.  She likes to tell you exactly what she wants and how good or bad you’re doing.  He’s the same, I guess.”

They’re quiet after that and all that’s coming through the feed are Eggsy’s moans, broken by a low stream of words regarding exactly what Eggsy’s feelings on being fucked are.

Someone coughs and Jimmy speaks up, “We’re going to cut the feed now.  No point subjecting you to this as well.  ETA is expected to be 8 hours.  Extraction team 3 signing off.”

The feed clicks off on the other end and Merlin leans back in his chair.  He removes his glasses and folds them before placing them, legs down, onto the desk.  Harry is still gaping at the radio, his own glasses resting on the tip of his nose after slipping down from his jerk of shock moments ago.  Merlin turns in his periphery and the split second before Merlin opens his mouth, Harry knows he has to prevent whatever his friend is about to say.

He fails, of course, because Merlin is always a step ahead when it comes to teasing.

“He’s got some pre’y solid fantasies about getting fucked on your desk.”

“That doesn’t mean anything.”

“Right,” Merlin’s grinning far too widely and Harry wonders briefly if there’s any way he can surreptitiously orchestrate a matter of national emergency in the next few seconds.

“Eggsy just wants to be buggered over your desk because it’s of a more solid make than mine.”

“My desk is more conveniently located from the door,” Harry says weakly.  It’s a terrible excuse and they both know it.

“If the lad wanted convenient, he’d stop at the dining room,” Merlin rolls his eyes.

“It doesn’t mean anything,” Harry insists.

“Fine,” Merlin shakes his head and goes back to his paperwork.

“If you insist on being a blockhead, it doesn’t mean anything.”  Merlin goes back to scribbling furiously and Harry squashes down the part of himself that says it does indeed mean something.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tu serás lo más bello que hay. - You will be the most beautiful thing there.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes Eggsy doesn't have honeypot missions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I haven't let this story die! It just took a bit for me to get this chapter out, but here it is :)
> 
> And I've also figured out that this thing is going to be six chapters long, so we're officially at the halfway point.

Thankfully, for Harry’s sanity—not so much for Merlin’s entertainment—not all of Eggsy’s missions are honeypot ones.  He still gets the usual roundup of stakeouts, extractions, and assassinations that are doing wonders for keeping Harry’s head screwed on straight.

Right up until Eggsy starts wearing the just a touch too tight suit on them.

Even then, it’s not so bad when he’s on solo missions because they really only get to see what Eggsy’s seeing and he doesn’t spend a lot of time looking at his own backside.  No, the problem is when Eggsy is on joint missions, usually with Roxy.  Eggsy usually leads their charge in, because Roxy’s reaction time for turning and firing her gun is faster, which makes her better to deal with potential ambushes from the rear.  This means, however, that usually her entire view consists of their surroundings centered around Eggsy running in the tight suit.

Harry’s taken to drinking his tea very quickly so he doesn’t accidentally knock it over in his distraction at watching Eggsy run.  Of course, it all gets a lot worse when there’s a fight because that’s where Harry learns just exactly how flexible Eggsy really is.

Intellectually, he’d always known that Eggsy was flexible; the boy could have made the Olympic gymnastics team if he hadn’t quit.  But knowing and _knowing_ are two different things.

Knowing is just the idea that Eggsy is flexible, that maybe he can bend backwards and touch the floor without bending his knees too much.

 _Knowing_ is watching Eggsy ripple off the floor by pressing his hands flat and pushing up in a way that arches his back into a sharp curve.  Merlin smirks knowingly at him the first time Harry drops his papers at the sight of Eggsy doing it.

“You should watch his training sessions,” Merlin says, “especially when he stretches.”

The wanker.

Harry ignores his friend and goes about his day.  It takes an immense amount of willpower to not just sit there and watch Eggsy run around and be flexible in his damned suit, but he somehow manages it and gets through a large enough stack of paper.  He and Merlin celebrate finally being able to see the other armchair again by drinking two fingers of whiskey each.

Merlin celebrates a bit more by forwarding several recordings of Eggsy stretching to Harry and watching a flush steal across his friend’s face.  Harry ignores him for the rest of the night and if he does go home and watch all of the videos repeatedly until the sun starts to peek through his curtains, Merlin will never know.

(Of course he does, somehow Merlin always knows.)

***

And then there’s the mission in the middle of the Amazon.

Eggsy’s complaining about the heat and the humidity and essentially everything that makes the rainforest the rainforest.  There’s a particularly biting one about the insects.

“Giant ants, Merlin,” Eggsy says snidely.  “Giant.  Ants.”

“Galahad, concentrate,” Merlin reprimands lightly.  Harry’s beside him, working on paperwork, not that Eggsy is aware of this.  He’s not particularly paying attention to the mission either because Eggsy has yet to do much other than trek forlornly through the damp of the rainforest trying to find this mysterious hidden base their intel told them about.  Which is why he misses it when Eggsy stops near the water to tuck his glasses onto a nearby rock and starts stripping and shoving his clothes into his rucksack.

Merlin, however, doesn’t.

“Galahad, what are you doing?”

Harry looks up that, just in time to see Eggsy bend over and shuck his trousers.  He stands in his pants for a couple moments, stretching, before diving back into his rucksack.  The first thing out is a pair of baggy cargo shorts that thankfully (for Harry’s tenuous grasp on sanity) get put on fairly quickly.  Unfortunately, they sling low around Eggsy’s hips and the waistband of his pants is clearly visible.  Eggsy rummages through the bag a bit more and finally comes up with a white tank.  He ends up dunking it into the water and wringing it out before putting it on.  The wet shirt clings to him and Harry tries quite hard to ignore the way Eggsy’s nipples peak under the garment.

“Galahad, what are you doing?” Merlin repeats after Eggsy’s put the glasses back on.

“It’s a million degrees out here,” Eggsy says.  “I’m just cooling off.  ‘Sides, I think it’s weirder for me to go about the jungle in a suit than it is in a pair of shorts.”

“The suit is bulletproof,” Merlin says.  It’s a discussion they’ve had many times before and each time Eggsy manages to avoid getting shot outside of his suit, Merlin fumes because his point just dies a pitiful death.

“Yeah, so’s this,” Eggsy says, “I got R&D to make me some stuff to stop you yellin’ at me for not wearin’ that heat trap.”

Merlin presses a finger down onto the R&D intercom line with rather more force than is strictly necessary.

“’Sup Master Merlin?”  The greeting is followed up by the sound of gum popping.

“Tania, did you make Eggsy a pair of bulletproof clothes?”

“Might’ve done, bossman,” Tania says flippantly.

“Americans,” Merlin mutters. “Always ignoring orders.”

“Hey, you just sign my checks.  He’s the one who’s actually down here prettying up the place all the time,” Tania fires back, “you come down here and pretty up my lab for a couple hours and then we can talk about me not making them pretty agents non-standard clothes.”

“I am not going to do that.”

“Then I ain’t stopping the non-standard clothes.  Besides, it’s something we’re trying to put into production anyway.  You can’t always be wearing suits,” Tania says.

“Call me back when you got an actual issue,” She says in lieu of goodbye and then the intercom clicks off.

“I can’t even fire her,” Merlin says sadly at the intercom, “MI6 will just snap her up and then we’ll lose all her tech to them.”

Harry slides over the plate of chocolate biscuits and Merlin takes one morosely.

“You realize she doesn’t follow your orders because she knows you won’t fire her,” Harry says.

“If she wasn’t observant enough to know that, I wouldn’t have hired her to begin with.”

Their conversation is cut short by a rather large, angry looking man with a nasty scar down his face coming into view on Eggsy’s screen.

“Oi, what’re you doing here?”

Eggsy feigns startling, visible from the jerk in the glasses.

“What?” A hand comes into view to nervously push the glasses up.

“Ain’t nobody allowed around here,” The man says, puffing himself up to tower over Eggsy.

“I’m just a grad student,” Eggsy says, “I’m studying insects, yeah?”

“Nobody’s allowed around here,” The man repeats.

“At least I ain’t lost then,” Eggsy says.  The man looks confused for a second, which Eggsy takes full advantage off.  He drops to the ground to snap a hard kick into the side of the man’s knee.  Merlin and Harry barely wince when there’s a clean snap and the man goes down, bellowing in pain.  Eggsy pops him one in the head and the noise stops.

“Keep sharp, Galahad,” Merlin warns, his fingers flying over his keyboard.  “Thirty meters to your two, there’s some kind of signal matching the one this man’s giving off.”

“Roger,” Eggsy says and darts forward.  A sheer rock face comes into view as he crests the nearest hill.

“Merlin, there’s guards,” Eggsy whispers.

“Can you sneak in?”

“Yeah, lemme just sneak in past the guards that ain’t movin’ from in front of the door,” Eggsy says sarcastically.

“Merlin, I know you think me bein’ off the streets gives me some kinda magic sneakin’ powers, but I’m sorry to say, it really don’t,” Eggsy lowers his voice when one of the guards frowns and squints in Eggsy’s general direction.

“Take them out then, you need to get into that base,” Merlin orders.

“Yeah, bruv,” Eggsy says and then charges out of the undergrowth.  He has both guards bleeding from headshots before either of them can get their gun up.

“Do not call me that,” Merlin grits out.

Eggsy doesn’t reply, choosing instead to rummage around in the dead guards’ clothes.

“Galahad, what are you doing?” Merlin asks.

“Well, see, they gotta have some way back in, yeah?  Ain’t no security cams up there, else they’d’ve come shot me already, y’know.  So’s I’m bettin’ that, ah, fuck yeah, there we go,” Eggsy unearths a white pass card and waggles it at the camera.

“Keycard,” He says triumphantly and traipses over to the door to pass it over the scanner.

The door slides open and a blast of cold air comes rippling out of the passageway that stretches beyond it.

“You fuckin’ kiddin’?  Why’s it the fuckin’ arctic in here?” He whines and then Harry and Merlin are treated to another round of Eggsy stripping down to change back into his suit.

He slips his arm back through his ruck sack and checks his gun before silently making his way down the hall.  It’s silent save for a whirring that indicates some sort of poorly maintained ventilation system.  It gets colder the deeper Eggsy goes and he wishes that Kingsman suits came with a hat of some sort.  His ears are fucking freezing.  He comes across another door and swipes the card against the pad.  It slides open and he insinuates himself inside and sidles down the bent corridor that follows.

He comes across a contingent of guards almost immediately and flies into action.  Merlin, smiling placidly all the while like he does when he’s tormenting Harry, hacks into the surveillance feed of the base.  It balloons up on to the screens in front of them and more than a few have a solid visual of Eggsy twisting in manners that pull his suit tight over the curve of his arse.

No sooner than one patrol is down does another come dashing up.

“Merlin, y’know yer supposed to warn me about them, right?”

Merlin hums noncommittally and sends a glowing green dot to ping up in the corner of Eggsy’s glasses.

“Follow the dot,” He orders.

“New tech then?” Eggsy inquires as he whirls on one foot and roundhouse kicks a man’s head straight into one of the walls.  There’s a nasty crunching sound and the man slides to the floor.  Eggsy gingerly steps over him and goes jogging down the hall, following the dot.

“Prototype,” Merlin corrects.  “While you need to go straight, it will not move.  It will shift right when you need to go right and left when you need to go left.”

“Aight,” Eggsy flashes them a thumbs-up and he turns as the dot bumps to the left and promptly runs into another contingent.

“Aw, fuckin’ hell.”

***

By the time Eggsy gets to the control room, he’s covered in blood spatter and various other bits.  There’s also a rip down right cheek of his trousers which is showcasing jet black briefs to Merlin and Harry, who are both still watching the surveillance cameras.

“So, the good thing is,” Eggsy tells them as he rifles through the papers on the desk, “that you can tell Tania that the pants is blade proof like she thought they was gonna be.”

“Blade proof underwear,” Merlin grouses. “Can’t imagine why you’d need that.”

“My arse is delicate and needs to be protected, aight?  It’s one of me finest bits,” Eggsy sticks out his tongue at the camera closest to him and goes back to shuffling through papers.  He steps over another downed thug, slipping in a pool of blood, and goes down in a sprawl of flailing limbs and a shower of paper.

Harry is treated to a very good view of Eggsy’s backside as he shoves himself onto his hands and knees and crawls out of the range of the blood before standing back up.  He plucks mournfully at his suit and says, “I liked this one.”

“You can always get a new one,” Merlin says.

“Mmyeah, guess so,” Eggsy sighs.

“It’s a suit, lad, what’s so special about it?”

“Well, just, y’know,” Eggsy mutters.  A blush steals across his cheeks and up his ears.  He mumbles something too low for the mic to pick up.

“Speak up,” Merlin says.

“I said, it’s one Harry got made for me,” Eggsy pouts spectacularly and chucks another useless folder over his shoulder.

“Oh my god, this is precious,” Merlin breathes out, giddy with the blackmail material that’s just fallen into his lap.

“Did you hear that, Harry?  He’s upset about the suit because it’s one _you had made for him_ ,” Merlin says in delight.

“Do me a favor, old friend, and shut up.”

***

Eggsy does eventually find the file he’s looking for buried under a mountain of used coffee filters.  It’s splotched all over with old coffee and Eggsy spends the whole way hiking to the extraction point wondering why people can’t just keep their shit organized.

He strips out of his suit as soon as he’s aboard the plane and sets his glasses down on the nearest flat surface.  Then, before Harry’s eyes, he strips down again and dumps his suit into the sink.  He doesn’t even bother putting on another change of clothes before he starts scrubbing at the suit.  His phone rings and soon enough, Eggsy is following Roxy’s instructions to get blood out of their suits.

“It’s not just a fuckin’ suit, Rox,” Eggsy whines into his phone, which he’s set off to the side on the large bathroom counter.

“It’s a suit, Eggsy.”

“Harry had it made for me,” Eggsy says petulantly.  He pulls it out of the water and squints at it.

“Just leave it to soak, Eggsy.  Dagonet will figure something out when you get home.” Roxy’s voice is just loud enough on speakerphone that Harry and Merlin can hear the fond exasperation even through the microphone on the glasses.

Eggsy grumbles but does as he told and finally, blessedly – for Harry anyway, goes to put on his street clothes.  He curls up on the couch, tucks his feet into the nook between the cushions, and pulls the blanket tight around himself.

“G’night, Rox,” Eggsy yawns.

“Night, Eggsy,” She replies in kind.

“This is tooth rottingly adorable,” Merlin notes absently.

When there’s no reply from Harry he looks up to find his friend fixated on the way Eggsy keeps nuzzling further and further into the blanket.

“Harry, as your friend, your very best even, I have to tell you to just ask the lad out already,” Merlin pats Harry’s hand and turns back to his paperwork.

A flush steals briefly over Harry’s face and he replies, ever eloquent, “When you ask our dearest Roxanne out, perhaps I shall.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> To be fair, Roxy and Eggsy are technically still "students" and should be allowed to have drunk BFF sleepovers even if it ends up with Eggsy making poor drunk decisions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I died during finals. I had 6 of them in 7 days. Never again.
> 
> Life advice = don't ever take 20 credits (6 classes) in one semester. DON'T DO IT.

What will likely be the death of both Harry and Merlin are Roxy and Eggsy’s Friday sleepovers.  Whenever the two of them are both in town and free for the night, they bundle themselves over to Roxy’s to lounge about in the cushion filled den and to drink.  It wouldn’t be so bad if Eggsy remembered to turn his glasses off or if they talked about literally any other topic than Harry or Merlin or sex or any combination thereof.

Unfortunately, apart from the general asides about how Eggsy’s family is doing and the enthusiastic licking Eggsy always receives from Cousteau (Roxy’s poodle) that’s all they seem to talk about.  After Eggsy sets JB down so he can yip his head off until Roxy obligingly squishes his face, they order takeout and drink and talk.

Some weeks are better than others, sometimes they talk about Merlin and how Roxy thinks he’s damn fit and how she would most certainly bang him at the drop of a hat.  Harry likes those days because it means that he gets to watch Merlin squirm (not that the man ever does) and pretend like he isn’t trying to hide the way he would very much like to climb into the younger agent’s bed.

It’s a nice change from Merlin teasing Harry.

Or it is until Merlin comes in one day looking insufferably smug and Roxy comes in looking so very much like someone who’s gotten everything she’s wanted in a night.

“I don’t want to hear it,” Harry grouses when Merlin opens his mouth to expound on what was no doubt a very long night of intensely athletic sex.

Merlin shrugs, “Suit yourself, I was just hoping hearing about my wonderful sex life would help you finally do something about yours.  And you did say you would take Eggsy out when I asked Roxy out.”

Harry glares at him balefully and pretends he doesn’t exist for the whole day.  They continue to monitor the sleepovers because, for some reason, Eggsy has an aversion to turning his glasses off and if they’re going to be stuck doing paperwork on a Friday, they might as well have some entertainment to go with it.

***

After one such night, Eggsy comes into headquarters walking awkwardly.  It’s very subtle, but Harry notices it quite clearly after Merlin brings it to his attention.  Every so often, Eggsy will wince and make an aborted movement towards his chest.  He always stops himself before actually touching and Harry sees the way he shoots a narrow eyed glare at Roxy, who simply rolls her eyes and mouths, “Your idea, don’t blame me,” every time.

It’s odd to say the least, but Harry chalks it up to Eggsy losing yet another round of sparring to Roxy and taking a rather unfortunate blow to the chest.  When he says as much to Merlin, the other man frowns and flips through the records on his clipboard.

“There’s no record of them sparring in the last forty eight hours,” Merlin says.

“So there’s no reason he should be moving like that,” Harry says, nodding at one of the screens, where they can both see Eggsy shuffling awkwardly, as if he’s trying to keep his chest from touching his shirt, down the hall towards Roxy’s temporary room.

“He might’ve bumped into something last night,” Merlin says.  “They did have their sleepover and Eggsy finally turned off his glasses.”

Harry makes a considering noise, but it only lasts until Eggsy pushes through the door to Roxy’s room to reveal the woman clad in only her bra and a pair of panties, flipping leisurely through a novel.

“Rox,” Eggsy practically whines, “can you check and make sure they haven’t fallen off?  They feel like they’re about to fall off.”

Roxy looks up and they can see her roll her eyes through the feed on Eggsy’s glasses.  She sits up and folds her legs.

“Here,” She says, patting the space in front of her.  The camera jostles as Eggsy levers himself onto the bed.

“Glasses off,” Roxy says, “I don’t want to get hit in the head with them again.”

That gets a chuckle out of Eggsy and there’s more movement as he presumably removes them and places them on the headboard.  The view shows the back of Roxy’s head and the upper half of Eggsy’s torso.  He wriggles out of his shirt and tosses it to the floor, prompting a wince from both Harry and Merlin.

“He’ll never learn how to treat his good clothes well,” Merlin says mournfully.

“I suppose that’s why Tania wasn’t averse to making him bullet proof chav wear,” Harry replies.

Merlin nods and then they both watch as Eggsy strips off his undershirt.  There are two squares of gauze over his nipples and Roxy peels them off carefully.  Eggsy’s nipples are puffy and pink and there’s a curved barbell through each one.

“They look fine to me,” She says after a careful inspection.

“You sure?  They feel like they’re gonna fuckin’ fall off,” Eggsy whines and reaches up to touch them.  Roxy slaps his hands down without even looking and continues her study.

“Have you cleaned them with saline like you were told?” She asks.

“This morning, before we left yours,” Eggsy says.

Roxy glances at the clock on the bedside and leans off the bed, disappearing momentarily from view.  She pops back up with a bottle of saline in hand and two small medicine cups.

“Here,” Roxy passes the first one over to Eggsy after she finishes pouring and Eggsy waits patiently as she measures out three quarters of the second cup.

“Don’t get my bed wet,” She warns and Eggsy salutes mockingly with one of the cups.  He leans forward slightly so he can press both cups to his chest without spilling and then he flumps backwards.

“Roxy, why did I do this,” He says.

“You said Harry would like it,” Roxy says and flips her book open again, “and you were drunk.”

“Why didn’t you stop me?”

“I was drunk, too.”

Eggsy makes a noise akin to a dying elephant that is clearly supposed to indicate that Roxy is the responsible one among the two of them.  Roxy rolls her eyes at his dramatics and goes back to her book.

“My fuckin’ nipples is about to fall off here and yer reading a fuckin’ book?”

“Yes, Eggsy, I am, because you were the one who decided that Harry would like the piercings, not me,” Roxy replies without bothering to look up.

Eggsy dissolves into grumbling and it’s around the ten minute mark that he gets antsy enough to start peppering Roxy with questions again.

“Ye think Harry’ll actually like ‘em?” He says.  His head’s tilted up off the bed just enough that Merlin and Harry can see the way he’s worrying his bottom lip.

“Eggsy, you’d be able to find this out _if you actually told him you’d like to ride him into the sunset_ ,” Rosy says irritably.

“I didn’t say that.”

Roxy must give him a truly spectacular glare because he recants only moments later, “Alright, maybe I said that once.”

“Please just tell him,” Roxy says.  “I’m legitimately considering locking the two of you in a closet until you kiss.”

“Now there’s an idea,” Merlin mumbles.  Harry gives him an indignant look and then goes back to watching the feed.

“Alright, up with you, time’s up.”

Eggsy sits up and takes care to keep from spilling the liquid all over the bed.  Roxy passes him a paper towel, which he uses to pat his chest dry.  Once Roxy’s satisfied with his job, she snips up some medical grade tape and lightly tapes two squares of gauze onto Eggsy’s chest.

“You’re the guv’nor, you are,” Eggsy says.

“I know,” Roxy says.

The camera whirls again as Eggsy settles the glasses back onto his face.  The view settles onto Roxy, who’s giving Eggsy a raised brow.

“Go on, say it, you have something to ask,” She says.

“You really think Harry’ll like ‘em?”

A pillow knocks Eggsy in the face and he scrambles away, sprinting for the door as Roxy gears up with another one.

“For god’s sake, Unwin!  Just fucking tell him to bang you over!”

Eggsy cackles all the way down the hall.

His feed disappears as he sets his glasses down on his desk and, presumably, makes his way to the kitchens.  Merlin and Harry watch as Eggsy meanders his way down to the lower levels of HQ.

“Piercings,” Merlin says.  “We’ll have to have him get his medical file updated.”

Harry remains silent, slightly gobsmacked.

“He got his nipples pierced for you,” Merlin says.  “Because he wants to ride you into the sunset.”

“It’s a sexual fascination,” Harry says and resolutely ignores the look Merlin gives him.

“He’s just curious,” Harry says.

“Yes, curious enough about sex with a posh older man to get his nipples pierced,” Merlin says, voice drier than any desert Harry’s ever been in.

“Yes,” Harry says and even he doesn’t believe it.

Merlin sighs the sigh of the weary and doesn’t comment again.

***

Of course, as if all the deities are somehow deciding to play their cards in Merlin’s favor, they’re stuck in the office again on another of Roxy and Eggsy’s drunken sleepovers.  It’s one of the rare ones where Eggsy and Roxy talk about things other than Merlin and Harry and they’re (they being Harry) quite grateful for the reprieve.

“Merlin’s a genius,” Eggsy mumbles and takes another swig of the cheap wine from the corner store.

“In bed, yeah, he is,” Roxy says triumphantly and takes the bottle from Eggsy to take a long drink.  She makes a face at the taste and hastily passes it back to Eggsy.

“Nah, bruv, I mean, great fer you that he’s sick in bed, but I mean like his glasses and shit,” Eggsy says.

Roxy waves her hand in the approximation of a motion that means ‘go on’.

“They’re fuckin’ genius, the way they turn off when you take ‘em off, yeah?  Don’ even need an off button.”

Roxy tries to sit a little straighter at that and Merlin and Harry stare at the screen with twin looks of disbelief.

“Merlin, this is somehow your fault,” Harry says as Roxy tries and fails to explain to Eggsy that the glasses do not in fact automatically turn off.

Merlin is suspiciously silent and when Harry turns to look at him, he busies himself with pretending to read his latest form.

“Merlin.”

On screen, Roxy gives up and says, “Yeah, Eggsy, they turn off when you take ‘em off.  It’s a great feature.  You should tell Merlin you like it.”

“Merlin, what did you tell Eggsy.”

“I told the lad the glasses turned off automatically when you took them off,” Merlin says petulantly.  “And then he ran off before I could tell him it was a joke.  I just figured someone would have explained it to him by now.”

“To borrow Eggsy’s words, are you taking the fucking piss?  I’ve had to sit through all of Eggsy’s honeypot missions because Eggsy doesn’t know his glasses don’t automatically turn off?” Harry’s voice is going slightly shrill, but he can’t really be blamed, the yoke of his self-restraint is dangerously close to snapping and it’s all Merlin’s fault.

“Yes, well, when you put it like that,” Merlin says and sniffs in offense.

“ _Merlin._ ”

“You’re the one who’s bothered by it, you tell him,” Merlin snaps back and goes back to his paperwork.

On screen, Eggsy lurches to his feet and goes, “I love this song.  Came up with a whole dance routine fer it once.”

And then he drops to the floor in a split.

Harry chokes on his tea and spends the next few seconds with it dripping down his chin in a most decidedly ungentlemanly manner as he watches Eggsy’s arse flex as he crawls towards a giggling Roxy, who tips over laughing when Eggsy does some sort of head toss.  He sets his cup down when Eggsy sits up on his knees and starts popping and he lunges for the off button when Eggsy starts stripping slowly, all to the sound of Roxy’s laughter.

In the sudden silence of the office, Harry can feel the way Merlin’s stare is prickling at him.

“I’ll tell him tomorrow,” Harry says finally.

“Or you could do something about it,” Merlin says nonchalantly.  When Harry looks over at him, he’s the very picture of innocence, betrayed only by the next words out of his mouth.

“The recruit dorm is empty and the cameras are set to be down for maintenance around sixteen hundred tomorrow,” He says.

It speaks to how close Harry is to reaching the end of his tether that he considers the idea completely seriously.

***

Of course he doesn’t act on it.

Instead, he plies Eggsy with paracetamol and water when he stumbles into HQ hungover as all hell the next morning.  Roxy breezes past them as bright as ever and makes a faux sympathetic noise that has Eggsy flipping her off.  When Eggsy has stopped trying to melt into his desk or die in the wardrobe, Harry takes the boy out for lunch at the chippie down the way.

They’re seated outside, under a gaudy red umbrella, and Eggsy is scanning the menu voraciously.

Eggsy says, “Yer payin’?”

And on Harry’s nod, he looks up at the waiter and says, “Two fish and chips, three of them deep fried oyster platters, and a bacon burger.”

“And somehow he never gets any fatter,” Merlin mutters in Harry’s ear.  Harry stifles a chuckle, rather unsuccessfully if the flush stealing over Eggsy’s ears is any indication.

“It’s not you, my dear boy,” Harry mollifies, “Merlin has just informed me of something rather amusing.”

Eggsy eyes him suspiciously for a moment longer before tacking on two milkshakes to his order.  Harry orders a much more conservative amount, opting for the lunch platter.  As a result, he finishes far earlier than Eggsy does, which leave him little to do other than to make small talk and watch Eggsy eat.

It’s a sloppy process, bites punctuated by Eggsy licking sauce when it drips down his wrist or sucking his fingers to get grease off them.

“I always figured gentlemen didn’t come to this sort of place,” Eggsy says.

Harry tears his gaze away from Eggsy’s mouth, which is slightly parted around the straw jammed into his milkshake.  He rolls the implement with his lips and his cheeks hollow as he takes a long sucking drink.

“Being,” Harry coughs when his voice comes out hoarse, “being a gentleman does not mean only enjoying the expensive things in life.  Sometimes you need to satisfy a craving for grease fare.”

Eggsy snorts and licks a stray dot of milkshake off his upper lip.

“Harry, you had a salad, soup, and steak.  That don’t count as grease fare.”

Before Harry can reply, Eggsy rips off a bit of his fish and puts it up near Harry’s mouth.  He nods at it, clearly intent on Harry eating it off his fingers.  Harry stares at it warily but obliges Eggsy by taking the fish neatly between his teeth.

“’s good, innit,” Eggsy prompts through another mouthful of food.

It is rather tasty; the slightly sweet flesh of the fish comes apart easily in his mouth, punctuated with a well crisped outer shell.  Eggsy has drizzled lemon and pepper all over them for a nice tang and Harry admits that it is delicious.

“He just fed you,” Merlin pipes up.  “I think this is officially a date.  Roxy, is this a date?”

“It looks more like two lovestruck idiots to me,” Roxy says thoughtfully.  “Hi, Arthur.”

“Now, before you ask, I don’t keep secrets from Roxy,” Merlin says.

“He tried, if it helps,” Roxy says earnestly.  “I figured it out anyway though.  You could just tell him, you know.”

Harry turns the audio feed off with a tap to the frame and continues to watch Eggsy shovel food into his mouth with alarming speed.

“Anyone would assume Kingsman doesn’t feed you by the way you eat,” Harry admonishes gently.

Eggsy glares at him but does slow down, cutting his food into smaller pieces before lifting them up to his mouth.  Almost immediately, Harry regrets ever saying anything because at least whilst Eggsy was shoving food into his mouth at top speed, he wasn't near fellating the fork.  As it is, Harry is now stuck watching Eggsy wrap his lips around the fork and the peek of his tongue as he drags the sauce off the tines almost obscenely.

Harry clears his throat so he doesn’t sound quite as affected as he feels and says, “Will you be ordering anything else?”

Eggsy takes a long, considering slurp of his milkshake and then licks the excess off his lips before he shakes his head.

“Excellent,” Harry says faintly before he leaves to pay the bill.

“I should be hurt that you locked me out, but after that display, it’s probably for the best.  I’m not sure you would have done as spectacularly with Roxy and I laughing in your ear,” Merlin tells him.

“Do shut up,” Harry grits out before plastering on a beatific smile for the young man at the register.

“Table eleven,” He informs the young man, who flushes and smiles back shyly.

“I’m ready to go,” Eggsy butts in suddenly.  He’s frowning at the man behind the register.  The young man’s eyes dart between them before some form of recognition dawns on his face.

“Of course, will you be paying by card today?” He asks politely.

Harry nods and swipes his card through the reader.

“Your receipt,” The cashier says and Eggsy links his arm through Harry’s as they stroll out of the restaurant.

“You didn’t even finish,” Harry points out as he catches sight of the large takeaway box in Eggsy’s hand.

“Yeah, well,” Eggsy grumbles noncommittally.

“He was flirtin’ wif ya,” Eggsy informs Harry after a moment.

“Of course he wasn’t,” Harry shakes his head, “I’m likely twice his age.”

Eggsy shrugs.

“Don’t mean ye ain’t fit,” Eggsy says.  “Sides, if ye don’t notice him flirtin’ at you, then how’re you supposed to notice anyone else flirtin’ at you.”

“Eggsy, he was not flirting.”

Eggsy’s eyebrows climb high on his forehead and he pouts ferociously before he whips his arm out from where it’s linked with Harry’s and storms off in the direction of headquarters.

“That went well,” Merlin says sarcastically.  “The lad’s right though.  You’re pretty fucking dense when it comes to the young ones and their flirtatious ways.”

“I’m quite sure I have no idea what you mean,” Harry says primly.

“And that’s the problem,” Merlin sighs cryptically.  “That, Harry fucking Hart, is the entire problem.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eggsy seduces twin princes and punches some people in the face under Roxy's watchful eye. Harry learns some important truths.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'M FREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE.
> 
> There was a bit of a hiccup with one of my exams where I had to go for a regrade but I PASSED EVERYTHING THAT MATTERS and failed one exam that didn't BUT IT'S OK.
> 
> But I am free now and I have a job for the rest of the summer and only one year left of uni and my life is starting to resemble an actual functional human adult's instead of just a scattery mess. I do things like go to the gym daily and eat food at semi-regular times. I also started powerlifting again and dear god have I fucking missed it.
> 
> Anywho, what matters to y'all is probably the fic so here we go! After almost exactly a year, we're finally at the end here. Which is exciting considering how many unfinished fics there are in my account and laptop there are. And as a sort of amends to my extended absence from updating because of reality, both chapters of this fic today as well as some from other chapters from other fics will be up this week.
> 
> Enjoy!

“Holy shit, this is one fancy shindig,” Eggsy whispers in awe.  The entrance to the hall is lavished in silver, swirled here and there with gold for warmth, and inset with, “holy fuck, are those real sapphires?”

“Yes, Eggsy, they are real.  Everything in this room is real, including the people.  Now if you could pay attention to them, I would be much happier,” Roxy grumbles at him.

“Patience, Roxy,” Harry tells her.

“Sorry, it’s just Eggsy that I get tetchy with.”

“You coulda chosen someone else to handle on your first shot at this,” Eggsy says as he glides over to the buffet table.

“I thought it might be nice to do it with my friend the first time around,” Roxy tells him.  “So far, you’ve been an admirable case as to why I will never be your handler again.”

“Aw, come off it, Rox.  Now you can be a complete arse to me when I have to do my first mission as a handler.”

“If you two would concentrate,” Harry interjects.  “You need to find the Telgravian princes and keep them safe for the night.”

“Mhm, I hear you,” Eggsy hums.

He turns away from the buffet table, his plate laden with hors d’oeuvres, and picks a standing cocktail style table to perch at as he surveys the room, idly eating as he does so.  He does a lazy scan of the place but doesn’t see anyone who resembles the, admittedly quite grainy, photos in his mission file.

He eats a few more of the cracker things with caviar on them and does another scan.  When no one pings his radar, he pulls a whole tray of the things off the buffet table and settles back onto his cocktail table.

“For god’s sake, Eggsy, you’ll make yourself sick,” Roxy admonishes.

“Mmgh,” Eggsy shrugs and shoves another one into his mouth just for good measure.

“I swear, if it were Harry telling you to stop, you’d listen,” Roxy says.  Harry doesn’t so much as twitch from where he’s staring at the feed of Eggsy steadily consuming his way through a not insignificant number of caviar topped crackers.

“Well, he isn’t,” Eggsy says petulantly and then straightens up at the sight of someone walking across the front of the stage nearest him.  He pops another cracker into his mouth as the room slowly quiets at the sight of the gentleman and then, when it’s finally silent, he begins to speak.

“Today, we are here to celebrate a most auspicious of days,” he begins.  “Today, our princes, Dominicus and Theularus, finally become men!”

The room breaks into applause at that and two young men emerge from the wings of the stage, dressed in matching suits.  Eggsy feels his jaw drop at the sight and he sucks in a slow breath that turns into an appreciative whistle.

“Fuck me,” He hums speculatively.

Harry’s hand tightens around his pen and he counts to thirty in his head before he feels calm enough to do anything other than flee the room.  He’s supposed to be judging Roxy on her performance as a handler, for fuck’s sake, not getting hung up on the fact that Eggsy has seemingly moved on from his fascination with Harry.

He doesn’t miss the side eyed glance Roxy throws his way, complete with a little bit of chewing on her bottom lip.

“I got this,” Eggsy says confidently.  “I know exactly how to keep them safe for the night.”

“Eggsy no,” Roxy groans.

“Eggsy yes,” Eggsy says.  “Unless you got a better way?”

Roxy says something very unflattering that momentarily scandalizes Harry and makes him feel every bit of the generation gap.  Eggsy just huffs a laugh and saunters over to where the princes have made themselves comfortable on a low round couch.  There’s an entourage surrounding them and Eggsy puts on his most charming smile as he makes his way over.

The entourage quiets immediately and the princes perk up ever so slightly in interest at Eggsy’s entrance.  They run approving eyes over his form and one of them, Dominicus – Eggsy thinks, lets his eyes go half hooded and a predatory smile stretches out over his generous lips.

He sketches a little bow out and then, in his poshest Queen’s English, says, “My Lord Exeter sends his deepest regrets that he could not be here to witness your passage to manhood.  Though he does send his fondest regards and I’m sure that you’ll find his gift most…touching.”

Eggsy winks and lets his smile widen into a brief smirk before he bows shallowly and turns away.  He doesn’t have to look back to know that both princes have their gazes pinned to his arse, gloriously framed as it is in his touch-too-tight suit.

Harry and Roxy watch as Eggsy returns to stuffing his face with expensive hors d’oeuvres, taking care to keep the princes just inside his scope of vision.

“Are you even sure they’ll take the bait?” Roxy asks eventually.  It’s been fifteen minutes since Eggsy’s enacted his brilliant seduction plan and all they’ve done in the time since is watch the princes track Eggsy’s slow movement down the buffet table.

“Yeah, they like the way my arse looks in these trousers.  Just give it a mo’,” Eggsy whispers back and reaches for a tart shaped treat.

“I would skip that,” Harry advises.

“Yeah?”

“It has bananas in it.”

Eggsy whips his hand back from the treat in the blink of an eye and sneers at the plate of the things a bit before moving on.

It’s only when Roxy hits the mute button for their end that Harry becomes aware that she’s staring at him like he’s suddenly grown two heads.

“Yes, Ms. Morton?”

“What the fuck was that,” she says.

“A gentleman does not—” Harry tries to derail the conversation.

“Oh, excuse me, what on heaven’s green earth just happened,” Roxy amends sarcastically and fixes him with a pointed stare that reminds Harry eerily of her brother.

“Eggsy doesn’t like bananas,” Harry informs her.

“What?” The confusion on her face throws Harry off for a moment and he furrows his brow.

“Did you not know that?  Eggsy hates bananas,” Harry says.

Roxy stares at him and then clicks the audio back on.

“You hate bananas?” She hisses at Eggsy.

“Yeah,” Eggsy whispers back.

“Why didn’t you tell me before I gave you a whole basket of those banana nut muffins?”

Eggsy’s arms raise up and down slightly, a version of a shrug suited for the field of vision the glasses provide.

“Dunno, just didn’t seem important.”

“It didn’t seem important to tell your _best friend_ that you hate bananas?  But telling Harry is fine?”

Eggsy chances a glance at a nearby large swath of silver so they can see his confused face in the reflection.

“It seemed like the thing to do.  I dunno, he asked.” He does the arm shrug again and then shoves a whole miniature mille feuille in his mouth.

Roxy turns the mute back on again and then she’s back to staring piercing holes in the side of Harry’s skull.  It speaks to his long years as a Kingsman that he only mildly wishes for Merlin to suddenly have an emergency that only he can deal with instead of fleeing from the situation outright.  Of course, this doesn’t happen and Harry finds himself dreading the idea of turning to face Roxy.

“Harry, I already know you’re arse over tits for Eggsy.  So hopefully you can fucking see that he’s arse over teakettle for you too,” Roxy waves a hand at the screen.

Harry blinks at her.  She sighs enormously and pinches the bridge of her nose.

“He told you he hates bananas,” She says, like the words hold the key to the universe.

“As he also told Merlin and medical, I’m sure,” Harry says mildly.

Roxy’s hand snakes towards him faster than he can react and suddenly she’s got his chin in a vice grip as she forcibly turns his head to face her.

“Look, I’m sure that whatever hang up you have here is massive in your mind and somehow related to a midlife crisis.  But I’m also going to say that we’re spies, okay.  We don’t know if we’re going to come back from our next mission and if you insist on making Eggsy sad because you think he deserves better or whatever, then you deserve a front row seat to whatever happens tonight,” She hisses at him.

She slaps the unmute and says, angrily, into the microphone, “Eggsy, we might need to accelerate your plan a little.”

And then she turns to fix Harry with a grin that manages, somehow, to be furious and triumphant.  It’s another face that Harry remembers distinctly on Percival and how it never really leads to good things for Harry.

He still holds out hope that maybe at least one Morton won’t be terrible for his sanity.

***

He’s dreadfully wrong.  Of course he is.  You’d think he’d have learned his lesson by now, what with knowing three different generations of Mortons, all of whom have seen to it that something they do makes Harry want to throw himself into the nearest cupboard and not come out for weeks on end.

You would really, really think.

But no.

Here he is, on his third generation of Morton – his fifth Morton overall, and he still hasn’t learned.

“Here” is still the control room next to Roxy as she tells Eggsy to “bite your lip and look up through your lashes, guys like that.”

It is rather unfortunate that the training control room has no cupboards to hide in.  Harry will have to speak with Merlin about remedying this.

Onscreen, Eggsy is following Roxy’s advice and then presents his neck to Dominicus, whom Harry is now regarding with a sort of loathing reserved usually for Kingsley’s cooking attempts, as a bonus.  Theularus looks on bemusedly, though his eyes are dark with lust too, and Harry hates him slightly less because it’s become clear, through the course of the last thirty seven minutes, that while Theularus enjoys men, he doesn’t wish to possess Eggsy, like Dominicus evidently wishes to.

“I, ah, Lancelot,” Harry coughs, “generally, handlers don’t go into so much detail as to say—”

“Say ‘I’m told I look stunning on my knees’,” Roxy interrupts.

“Something like that,” Harry finishes weakly and watches with a growing clench of jealousy as Eggsy does as she says.  Dominicus rumbles approvingly from where he’s nuzzling into Eggsy’s neck.

“Then it would be an absolute waste if we were not to view this, wouldn’t it, Theo?” Dominicus murmurs.

“Absolutely,” Theularus agrees and lifts Eggsy’s right hand to his lips to press a kiss to the palm.

“Wait,” Eggsy pulls back suddenly, frowning.  “You two alright with going at the same time?  Cause like you’re brothers.”

His Queen’s English drops and the twins share a brief eyebrow raise with one another before shrugging.

“So long as Dom and I don’t actually touch each other,” Theularus says.

“I am intensely okay with that,” Eggsy says and yanks Dominicus into a messy kiss, which Harry and Roxy are spared from seeing when Dominicus pulls Eggsy’s glasses off and chucks them across the room.

They faintly hear Eggsy say “I need those” as the camera spins away, followed up by an insincere apology from Dominicus.

“So what do I do in this situation?” Roxy asks.  “In the case that the agent can no longer hear me, is there protocol or something?”

“I’m sure Galahad is absolutely fine without our assistance,” Harry grits out.

***

Without a visual, being a handler for this sort of mission is incredibly boring.  Aside from the occasional servant, no one appears on the surveillance cameras outside Dominicus’ rooms.  Their would-be assassin hasn’t showed up either and as interesting as the muffled noises are from the glasses feed, without a direct visual or better audio, it gets boring rather quickly.  Roxy spends the interval learning how to solve successively larger Rubix cubes and Harry spends the interval trying – and failing when Roxy pins him with the famous Morton “there I told you so” look – to tell Roxy that Eggsy deserves better because Harry is old and broken.

Just as he finally talks himself into going through with his speech – he’s been a spy for thirty years for fuck’s sake, a glare from Roxy should not prompt fight or flight response – the glasses feed moves.  It wobbles up past a nightstand made of rich brown mahogany inlaid with gold knobs.  There’s a click as the glasses get set down, the visual set squarely on Eggsy rocking his hips back to meet Dominicus’ thrusts.

He moans loudly and drops his head to rest it against his crossed arms.

“Theo, look at him blush,” Dominicus says approvingly.  He runs one hand down the length of Eggsy’s spine, prompting a full body shudder.

“You were right, you know,” Theularaus murmurs as he leans down to tilt Eggsy’s head up.  He kisses Eggsy soundly and when he draws back, Eggsy blinks blearily at him and manages to coherently say, “Whazza?”

“You do look gorgeous on your knees,” Theularus says and coaxes Eggsy to open his mouth.

“Oh fuck yes,” Eggsy says breathily and takes care to pull in a deep breath through his nose as Theularus slowly pushes in.

“I wish we could keep him,” Dom says wistfully as he pulls out slightly and then thrusts in again with a lewd grind of his hips that has Eggsy moaning and shivering.

“We could,” Theularus muses.  “But I think his owner would like him back.  I certainly wouldn’t give away such a beautiful young man to anyone.”

His hips stall their lazy pace and he pulls out of Eggsy’s mouth, coaxing him upright until his back is pressed into Dominicus’ chest.  Eggsy blinks at him slowly before a sly grin spreads across his face.

“You could fit, you know.  Might be a lil tight,” Eggsy tells them.  He lets his head loll back onto Dominicus’ shoulder, little noises escaping him as Dominicus thrusts up.

Theularus moves forward, hands moving up to cup at Eggsy’s waist when Roxy notices movement from one of the cameras outside the building.

“Eggsy, the window,” she says into the comm before remembering that his glasses are on the bedside table.

As it is, the window shatters in a sparkling fall of broken glass and their would-be assassin insinuates himself into the bedroom.  Eggsy pulls off of Dominicus, quicker than his lust-glazed eyes would have one believe, and swipes his glasses off the nightstand before lunging at the intruder.

***

It’s the work of less than a minute for Eggsy to actually take out the assassin and in the next two, Roxy has him identified as one of Torialus’ men, who would have been next in line for the crown if the twins died.

“Rox, why can’t they ever wait until after I get off before they try to kill people,” Eggsy whines.

He’s still panting, though Roxy can see through the mirror that’s in Eggsy’s peripheral, it’s definitely not from fighting the assassin.  Eggsy’s still hard and flushed and he makes quick work of hogtying their perpetrator up before turning back to the bed.  Dominicus and Theularus are wearing twin looks of appreciation and lust and Eggsy obviously thinks modesty is for lesser beings because he stalks right back to the bed and clambers onto it, demanding to be touched again.

***

It’s past five in the morning where Eggsy is when he finally slips out of the bedroom, the twins snoozing away on opposite sides of the bed.  He’s dressed more or less, though he’s fighting to slip his tie back on, and the only thing that really screams debauchery about him is his hair.  Roxy watches him run a futile hand through it in a mirror and tells him that Harry's gone off to make a cuppa before flapping a hand at Harry that clearly says "shut up".  They watch Eggsy give up on his hair and then do up his tie with precise movements.  The soft morning sun lights the long hall golden and something about the way it reflects in the mirror gives Eggsy a hazy glow that momentarily steals Harry's breath away.

“Should you really be going off having wild sex with twins just because Harry didn’t know you two were on a date?” Roxy asks finally.  She’s careful to keep her tone as nonchalant as possible, as if Harry weren’t right there listening to every word they both say.

“It weren’t cause Harry didn’t know we were on a date.”

“Mmhmm,” Roxy hums skeptically.

“Aight fine, it kinda were cause he didn’t know we were on a date,” Eggsy admits.

Harry is about to interject when she flaps a hand at him again, another clear sign for him to “shush or else.”

“Rox, he don’t love me,” Eggsy says morosely.  “So I’m just gonna sleep around a bit ‘til I find someone that I love that loves me back.”

Roxy turns off the audio for their side and turns to look at Harry.

“I really want to engage in some primal scream therapy right now because of you two,” She informs him primly.  “So if you don’t pull your head out of your arse I will hit you in the balls, Arthur or not.”

Harry, in his defense, is still stuck on the fact Eggsy loves him and therefore responds by staring at her in bewilderment.  Roxy sighs and rolls her eyes before turning the mic back on to tell Eggsy to get a move on before someone catches him coming out of the princes’ wing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Headcanoned for the twins:
> 
> Theularus = [Martin Sensmeier](http://40.media.tumblr.com/24251dfc2c36f0720b8e251936343d63/tumblr_mukrorUPZe1qe0gimo2_1280.jpg)
> 
> Dominicus = [Willy Cartier](http://static.euronews.com/articles/288222/600x600_willycartier3.jpg)


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The payoff chapter, also known as Merlin finally gets Harry to do something about all this UST.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, just to say, this fic has veered off incredibly from what I first imagined it would be, which was five chapters of Eggsy seducing various people for the purpose of missions and then seducing Harry in the last one. I'm not even sure what this is anymore and I feel like it's kind of a mess. I dunno anymore but hopefully, you guys still enjoy it!
> 
> But here we are, finito! Finally. Hopefully this starts a trend of me actually finishing my other WIPs. But thanks to anyone who stuck with my terribly sporadic and unpredictable updates and who were supportive these past eight months when real life decided to run me over. And thank you to anyone who's read this fic at all, but especially those who've taken the time to leave a comment. They always light up my day and never fail to make me feel better, even when everything's gone to shit. <3

It’s been a week since Eggsy swanned off to New York City – sans glasses as per his persona – and Harry is in a right foul mood.  The only people who bother speaking to him at this point are Roxy and Merlin, who raise their eyebrows elegantly and judgmentally when Harry snaps at them.

“He’s not actually seducing anyone this time.  I don’t understand why you’re so snappish,” Merlin points out.  He punctuates the silence that follows with a long sip of his tea.

“No, he’s just auditioning to show off his naked body to hordes of people for a week in an erotic exhibition about Pygmalion,” Harry grumbles.

“He is our best shot at getting an agent into the exhibition,” Roxy says.  She’s upside down on the couch, her ponytail hanging off the edge, and she’s completing a crossword as she does some light leg exercises.

“We could have sent Percy,” Harry says.

Roxy rotates onto her stomach to give him a look that resembles Merlin’s Harry-we-talked-about-this-why-are-you-doing-it-still face.  Intriguingly enough, Harry likes it no better on Roxy than he does on Merlin.

“Because Uncle Percy dances like a wooden monkey and is about as good when it comes to looking seductive or sexually innocent,” Roxy says and then scrunches up her nose like she’s offended that Harry even made her think about the situation at all.

“And before you ask why we couldn’t send anyone else, no,” Merlin tells Harry as he comes into the room with takeaway.

“Oooh, pad thai,” Roxy drops the crossword promptly to make grabby hands at Merlin, who hands her her carton obligingly.

Harry continues to pout.

Merlin sighs and rubs the bridge of his nose.  He scoots Roxy over just enough to tuck himself onto the couch next to her before cracking his own food open.  He takes a massive bite before pointing his fork at Harry.

“Roxy’s in possession of some parts that, while lovely, are not what the artist is looking for.  And the rest of you are too old, aside from Percy, whose shortcomings Roxy has already illustrated,” Merlin says.

“One of the technicians then,” Harry grouses.

The look Merlin levels him with is glacial.

“I would never subject one of my minions to the crap you agents go through.  It’s bad enough the handlers watch your feeds and then spread the naked parts of them to the rest of the minions,” Merlin says haughtily.

“What?” Roxy whips around to face Merlin, alarm all over her face.

“Not you, darling,” Merlin placates. “Amelia likes you too much to add you to the agent poster auction.”

He pulls up an image of Eggsy, from a recent mission, drenched in something and gleaming under the sun.  His glasses are off, eyes focused a little bit upwards of the camera, and his hair has been tousled into what Harry immediately thinks of as _post coital_.  He’s got his hands on the waist of his jeans, the garment just low enough to expose the root of his cock.

“We really need to tell him the glasses don’t turn off automatically,” Harry says faintly.

“Ye think this one’s bad,” Merlin mutters as he skips to the next image, which is of Eggsy’s backside, fully naked, his arse the perfect center of the image as he stretches.

“Both of these are in the auction?” Roxy says curiously as she peers at the image from over Merlin’s shoulder.

“Yes, they’ve currently got the highest bids as well,” Merlin says.

He stares pointedly at Harry, who looks away and pretends to be duly invested in Hector’s mission, which is currently a lot of teaching swimming classes to the elderly as per his cover.

***

That Merlin receives a bid for both posters that puts them both well out of the bidding range of any of Merlin’s minions is something Merlin only mocks Harry for once.

***

It’s not that Harry is jealous.  Absolutely not.

It’s just that he’s absolutely, blindingly, maddeningly jealous.  After sitting on his hands – somewhat literally at times – for the last two weeks while he worked up the courage to ask Eggsy out on a date (a proper one where all participants are aware they’re on a date), Eggsy’s gone suddenly on a mission that isn’t supposed to have started for another week.

He’s jealous as Merlin turns on all the hacked video feeds – surprisingly crisp for once – and Eggsy comes in, mouth wide as he gapes at the fancy room.  Harry is momentarily angry when Eggsy’s wonder prompts some of the other boys in the room to snicker and make pointed comments about Eggsy that remind Harry of Charlie and his lot.  Luckily, Eggsy’s character this time is a somewhat dense boy who’s never been to a large city and therefore has been spared the cattiness that such urbanization seems to cultivate.

He’s jealous and grumpy as they watch Eggsy pretend to be a country boy, all wide eyed fascination and cute cocks of his head when he pretends to be confused, and instantly ensnare the first round of judges with his fluttering lashes and faux innocence in combination with his hard, well trained body.  He gets grumblier as they watch Eggsy flush bright red at the lewd praise one of the judges offers, her eyes roaming appreciatively over the swell of Eggsy’s arse and the taut muscled lines of his thighs.  Harry snaps another pencil when she runs perfectly manicured French tip nails down the line between Eggsy’s pectorals, the touch eliciting a shiver.  Her fingers dance over to the side, where they toy briefly with the ring through Eggsy’s nipple.

“Oh, I do like you,” She purrs.

“Um, thank you, ma’am?” Eggsy says uncertainly and Harry throws away the bits of his pencil to storm out of the control center.

“Should I go get him?” Roxy offers without intent.  She’s sipping at a frothy caffeinated mess of a drink and, with her slippered feet propped up the console, clearly has no intent of actually following through on fetching Harry.

“He’s probably just on his way to New York,” Merlin shrugs.  “He’ll be fine.”

“…There’s no mission is there,” Roxy says.

“Very good, Lancelot.  Excellent perception,” Merlin replies blandly.

“Oh my god, Merlin, did you set this up so they’d finally get their heads on right?”

“Could be,” Merlin says, with his voice carefully free of enunciation.  Roxy leans over to peck him on the cheek, smearing red lipstick over it in her wake.

“You are the most brilliant man,” She says adoringly.

“I really am,” Merlin agrees, which earns him a playful slap on the shoulder from Roxy.

“Think they’ll actually get their shit together?”

“They better or we’ll be trying your closet idea next.”

***

Harry fumes all the way to New York, getting progressively more irritated as he watches the artist – _Alexandros_ , Merlin’s voice says in the back of his head – look at Eggsy with desire burning deep in his eyes.  He frowns mightily when Alexandros runs his hands over Eggsy’s back, prompting a flush onto his skin.

It’s an incredibly fraught six hours and when the plane finally touches down onto the American branch’s tarmac, Harry barrels out of the plane with the crispest, politest thank you to the pilot and beelines for the mansion with the intentions of getting to the hotel as soon as possible.

“Harry!”

Harry grits his teeth and plasters on a smile as he turns to greet Jack, who yanks him into a tight hug, complete with backslapping.

“Hello, Jack, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got somewhere to be,” Harry says.

“Nonsense, you can stop for a drink,” Jack waves off Harry’s objections as he tows him towards the building.

“In all seriousness, I really do—”

“C’mon, Harry, it’s one shot.  What harm can it do?”

“If I take the shot will you let me go?”

“Of course,” Jack nods and smiles brilliantly.

Harry should have known this was a lie.

***

One shot turns into three turns into seven and next thing Harry knows, he’s boozed up on the Statesmen couch, squashed between Jack, Harvey, Tarina, Mimi, and Quinn as they all stare at the hotel feed of Alexandros getting way too close to Eggsy to manipulate him into the proper “positions” he will take during the exhibition’s dance.

“He’s very pretty,” Mimi says, her heavy southern drawl and copious alcohol consumption slurring the words until they’re nigh incomprehensible to Harry.

“Very,” Harvey agrees and takes another pull from the bottle of whiskey they’re passing between them.

“Why are you still here when he is waiting?” Tarina tips her head back onto Harry’s knees to look up at him.  Her eyes are huge and liquid in the dim lighting of the room and Harry feels like his soul is being cleansed just by looking at them.

“Jack,” Harry starts.  He stops then, his tongue suddenly too heavy, and his head far too clear.

“I have to go,” he declares and clambers out of the pile of Statesmen.  They chorus goodbye at him and Harry swears he sees money change more than one pair of hands.  But he ignores it in favor of getting out of the mansion.  It’s a testament to how fleet on his feet he is because he only runs into one stationary object on his way to the taxi waiting for him outside the mansion.

***

He scales up the outside of the hotel, because he’s still drunk and it seems like the thing to do, and tumbles into the hall on the floor Alexandros has stashed Eggsy.  He allows himself one good sneer at the thought of _Alexandros_ and then composes himself as much as the still drunken haze in his mind will allow him.  Harry straightens up and walks down the halls like he has reason to be there and not like he just snuck in through a window.

He stands uselessly outside of Eggsy’s room door for all of a minute before Roxy, ever vigilant apparently, hisses, “just knock already.”

As surprised as he is by her sudden words, he doesn’t let it show and obediently knocks on the door.

“Just a mo’, yeah?”

The words are muffled and Harry can hear the vague sounds of things shuffling around.  Eventually though, the door does open and Eggsy peers out.

“Harry, what the fuck are you doing here?”

“I have something important to say,” Harry announces and then sways forward precariously.

“Really now,” there’s no mistaking the barely disguised amusement in Eggsy’s voice, “and here I thought you was just pissed outside my door.”

“I do have a thing to say,” Harry insists petulantly, but he does allow Eggsy to sort of wrangle him onto the bed.

“Mmhmm,” Eggsy’s tone has turned fond and indulgent as he peels off Harry’s shoes and belt.  He coaxes Harry out of his suit jacket and then tucks the blankets up to Harry’s chin.  There’s a moment’s hesitation and Harry is nearly asleep when it happens, but Eggsy presses his lips to his forehead and murmurs goodnight just before Harry passes out completely.

***

It’s nearing four in the afternoon when he wakes up without a headache dogging his temples.  The room is dark save for some low afternoon light peeking through the curtains.  Eggsy is gone, but there is a post-it stuck to Harry’s glasses when he fumbles for them.

_At exhibition.  Come see if you wake up before six._

There’s a ticket on the nightstand, done in tasteful gold curling lettering with time and venue of the event printed on the lower right.

Harry groans and lets himself languish in bed for five more minutes before forcibly ejecting himself out of it.  He fumbles through the closet for his suit fruitlessly and then wanders into the bathroom to brush his teeth.  Halfway through scrubbing the taste of something dying in his mouth out of it, he notices his suit hanging up in the shower.  It reeks of alcohol and Harry recoils a bit from it.  There’s absolutely no way he’s going to be able to get it cleaned before six and he resigns himself to just wearing his shirt, which somehow has been spared the fate of his jacket.

It takes him another ten minutes to locate his belt, which is wedged behind one of the chairs, and by the time he actually makes it out of the hotel, it’s nearing five to six.  Luckily, the exhibition is less than a block away and Harry makes it there just before the doors close.  He passes his ticket over to the bored looking receptionist, who waves him through.

Harry mills about with the rest of the glittering assemblage, helping himself to hors d’oeuvres and prosecco as he tells those who ask that he’s a wealthy businessman and that this is his employer’s way of forcing him into a vacation.  He’s been mingling, by his accounts, for fifteen minutes and figured out the best way to stash the tray of mini tarts – a favorite treat of Eggsy’s – in a hiding place for him to take home later which leads to some serious contemplation about how he’s incredibly head over heels for Eggsy if this is what he’s thinking about – when the lights in the room dim.

Through a combination of grace and years of fleet footedness, Harry manages to secure a spot at the front of the crowd, where he has a clear view of an elegant throne for a split second before the lights go out completely.  A single spotlight turns on to illuminate Alexandros, who lifts his hands, palms up, as if in supplication, in greeting.  Harry hates to admit it, but the lighting makes Alexandros look gorgeous and supplies just enough of a hint of danger and mystery in the shadowed hollows of his cheekbones and the deeper set of his eyes.

“Welcome,” he says in a pleasant timbre, “I would tell you the story that you are about to see, but I do think it would detract from the performance.  So without further ado, I present to you _Galatea_.”

The spotlight goes out and when it flicks on again, Eggsy is under it, looking ethereal and golden upon the throne.  He’s bare save for a pair of skin tight black briefs that shine in the light in a way that reminds Harry of silk.  One of the other actors prowls forward and presses a hand to the center of Eggsy’s chest.  As if by magic, Eggsy startles into motion, leaning forward as the man pulls his hand away.

He follows the hand forward and up out of the throne, moving slowly and sinuously.  The light throws the contours of his body into sharp relief and Harry holds his breath as Eggsy looks up and catches his eye.  The barest smirk flits over Eggsy’s face before he turns away and melts into the embrace of another actor, whose approach Harry hadn’t even noticed – engrossed as he was in Eggsy.  The new man runs his hands down the sharp line of Eggsy’s hips and then delicately up, trailing the contours of his abs, to rest just below Eggsy’s nipples.

The first man reenters the scene to draw a hand up the long, lean line of Eggsy’s neck and to tip it up.  Eggsy follows its movement, only to be arrested and drawn in by the movements of the other man.  And so on it goes – a delicately forceful and erotic tug of war between the two men over their supposed Galatea, who can only teeter between them in his innocence and curiousity.

It all ends as fluidly as it began.  Eggsy, as Galatea, realizes that he is the cause of the feud between the men and instead of choosing one over the other, chooses instead to return to his throne, where he slowly morphs from a living being to a statue.  The two men, graceful as well in their movements, mourn over him and reconcile with one another before moving out of the spotlight.  The lights dim and as they do, Harry sees Eggsy smile benevolently, as if the Galatea he’s playing is pleased that the two feuding for him have made up.

The applause when the lights go out completely is thunderous.  The whole room lights back up and Harry chances a quick glance at the throne to find it empty.  The crowd surges forward to claim the empty space and Harry finds himself scanning the crowd for Eggsy.  He sees Alexandros before Eggsy and moves towards the man, squashing down the part of himself that doesn’t wish to ask the man for help.  It’s only as he nears that he spies Eggsy next to Alexandros and on when he’s closer still that he hears what the man is saying.

“Gareth, if you would come work with me always,” Alexandros says.  His voice is smooth and smoky, reminiscent of a fine scotch.  Eggsy, still playing at being the blushing, bumbling country boy, flushes and mumbles.

“Um, it’s a great honor but I dunno if this is for me.”

“You are beautiful and brilliant under the spotlight and in my hands, you can become more,” Alexandros promises and moves forward until there’s no more than a couple inches between him and Eggsy.

“I, uh, um,” Eggsy fumbles for words.

“He is already spoken for, is what he means to say,” Harry insinuates himself smooth as a rumor and snakes a hand around Eggsy’s bare body to pull him flush against Harry’s chest.

“Harry?” Eggsy looks up at him, eyes wide.

“Gareth,” Harry says without looking away from Alexandros.  To his credit, though he looks surprised, Alexandros merely inclines his head and smiles.

“Ah, my apologies.  If I had known, I would not have flirted so brazenly,” Alexandros says.

“My offer of a part in my future productions still stands, though you are spoken for,” he continues, and there is a spark of mischief in his eyes as he speaks.

“Uh, yeah, I’ll keep it in mind,” Eggsy replies, waving limply as Alexandros accepts Eggsy’s words and leaves to accept more congratulations from the others milling about.

Harry leans down until his mouth is level with Eggsy’s ear and whispers, “I would very much like to take you to bed now.”

Eggsy stiffens and then rips himself out of Harry’s grip to storm away.  Harry blinks after his retreating form in surprise and then stalks after Eggsy.  He follows Eggsy out of the large ballroom and into an empty side hall.

Eggsy whirls on him as soon as he’s deemed them far enough from the ballroom.

“Is this some kind of fucking joke?”  He demands.

“I beg your pardon?” Harry says in confusion.

“You don’t fucking know we’re on a date and then you, you, you,” Eggsy shuts his mouth with a clack and stands there for a few moments, chest heaving as he takes in deep breaths through his nose to calm himself.

“This isn’t a joke, Eggsy,” Harry says.  “Do you think I would fly from London to New York because I couldn’t stand the thought of more people touching you as a joke?”

“Sure didn’t have a fucking problem with it when it was those princes, did you,” Eggsy snaps out.

“I DID,” Harry roars.  Eggsy takes a step back, eyes wide with surprise, and Harry takes a moment to close his eyes and compose himself.

“I had many problems with them and with all the others before them,” Harry states.

Eggsy snorts inelegantly, “Sure got a funny fuckin’ way of showin’ it, don’tcha.”

“And what would you have me do?  Surely you didn’t expect me to believe that someone as beautiful and young as you, that someone as brilliant and wonderful as you could ever love someone as old and jaded as I am.”

Eggsy gapes at him and then flails a hand at him.

“Do you look in mirrors?  Or do you just get dressed blind?  In what fuckin’ world are you not the most gorgeous person in the room?  Swear down, Alexandros was about to ask you if you could be in his next production so he could seduce you.”

“Well, unfortunately, I am taken with another,” Harry says and tries not to die of how cliché that makes him sound.

“Are you,” is Eggsy’s flat reply.

“Yes, I am.  I’m not sure what else to do to show you,” Harry admits, though it makes him supremely uncomfortable to admit to such a weakness.

Eggsy’s resultant laugh is ugly.

“You dunno what else to do?  You haven’t even fucking tried.”

“Yes, I haven’t tried and yes, I don’t know what to do,” Harry bites out.  “I have no idea because it has been so long since I cared enough about someone to keep them.  If it were solely up to me, I would put a ring on your finger and keep you all for my own.  If I were a less honorable man, I would lock you away, my darling boy, and only let you glow under the light for me.  I would keep you chained to me, under the thrall of the pleasure I could offer and I would give it to you until you knew naught but my name.  I would keep you if you would have me.”

Somehow, he’s gotten closer to Eggsy as his speech progresses until he’s barely more than a handspan away.

“Yeah?” Eggsy says breathily.

“Yes,” Harry murmurs.

Eggsy tilts his head up and Harry descends meet him halfway.  His hand slides into Eggsy’s hair to cradle his head and he feels Eggsy’s sweep up to loop over his shoulders.  They kiss until Eggsy makes an insistent noise and pulls away.

“Y’know,” he says thoughtfully, “if you pulled out a ring right here, I might actually let you marry me.”

There’s a moment where the only sounds are the faint music from the ballroom and their breathing as they try to control it.

“And all of that stuff, maybe I think it too,” Eggsy admits.

“Eggsy,” Harry takes a deep breath, “you should know that I do love you dearly.”

“Yeah, I figured, what with that speech you just gave.  I love you too, you daft fucking arse.”

“Great, can you two come back to London now?  There are actual missions I need you to go on,” Merlin’s voice pipes up in Harry’s comm.

“Mm, I think Eggsy and I are due a brief respite,” Harry says.

“No, no you’re feckin’ not.  Harry if ye shut me off, I swear I’ll—”

Harry pulls his hands off his glasses to smooth down a stray lock of Eggsy’s hair.

“What do you think about going back home with me and not leaving for a full twenty four hours?”

“I think that would be fucking brilliant.”

***

But of course, since the course of love never did run smooth and also because Merlin is a vindictive shit on occasion, he has Harry’s auction posters delivered the morning after they get back to London.

“Harry?”

“Yes, Eggsy?”

“Why you got a poster of me arse in your kitchen?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Headcanons for
> 
> Alexandros = [Theo Theodoridis](http://blog.tapuz.co.il/Orllane/images/%7B36A10038-8F0B-4A86-A6D2-F2291A7C57B8%7D.jpg)


End file.
